Death's Eternal Cold
by clueless in seattle
Summary: A killer with a literary leaning is not the only challenge Goren and Eames have to face in this story.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**__All of the characters are the property of Dick Wolf. I thank him, the writers, the directors and all the great actors who brought them "to life" for our benefit. Any "liberties" I have taken with them is motivated only by my fond admiration. _

_**AN:**__ This story is not set entirely within the accepted "canon" or strictly within the "storyline" for the characters as it is only officially portrayed by the TV series._

_**They say some things are best left alone…I should have cut off my hands at the end of **_**"Encore For Adrasteia"****_ but then I got to thinking (again) about what might happen next…always a mistake…as anyone who bothers to read on will soon discover…_**

_**DEATH'S ETERNAL COLD**_

**Thursday 13****th**** November**

_**St John The Divine, Amsterdam Avenue**_

It was claimed to be the largest Anglican cathedral in the world. If so, it was the largest still to be finished, over one hundred and fifteen years since they made a start on it. Similar structures in Europe had been completed in half the time, a thousand years earlier and with only man and horsepower to do the construction work. But in those days religion had more of a monopoly on people's time and money.

Built in the _"Gothic Revival"_ style so beloved of the late nineteenth century, it had avoided the overbearing gloom of its also unfinished counterpart over at St Patrick's, but neither was much to Robert Goren's taste. _"Gothic"_ was best left to those for whom it was contemporary.

He paused between slipping his overcoat over his uniform, to acknowledge a few people straggling down the steps at the west doors. And then hurried away. Like many and those who had not arrived in cabs or chauffer driven cars, he had some way to go to retrieve a vehicle.

At the top of the steps in civilian clothes, Alex Eames stood beside Jack McCoy as he spoke with the wider family of George White. His executive ADA had been killed, along with his flying instructor, almost a month ago. The funeral was a private affair, St John's had hosted the memorial service and the District Attorney had read one of the lessons.

A family tragedy as White had three teenaged children, but that afternoon an occasion for the great and good in New York civil and legal society to pay their respects. From the mayor down and since Eames was there as McCoy's recognised _"partner"_ these days, it had neatly the solved a problem for Captain Ross. He'd sent Goren to represent Major Case and sit among the rows of NYPD who were present.

But as she excused herself from Jack's side, Eames also knew that White's death presented him with an opportunity. George had been appointed very much at political urging after McCoy was elected. A safe pair of hands and politically desirable ones to be alongside a DA whose tenure was already proving to be unconventional. White's successor would be of Jack's choosing and half way down the steps was a small clutch of the potential candidates.

Good manners had, until now, kept check on naked ambition but she suspected the gloves would soon be off and at home there were several invitations of the social kind. Intended to impress or drop opinion in McCoy's ear. Eames avoided the likes of Teresa Randle, Pat McCann and Eric Stoller. Making for a familiar and friendly face on the sidewalk.

"Hello Ron" she greeted Carver.

"Good to see you Alex. If sad circumstances and a lesson to us all to follow more mundane leisure pursuits"

Carver might once have been amongst that clutch or coven of senior ADA's, but these days he was in private practice.

"Oh I don't know, people maim themselves with garden tools or have heart attacks on tennis courts, all the time"

"How re-assuring" murmured Carver.

"You see the fight for the key to the executive washroom has already begun?"

Ron smiled fractionally "It's the same in the private sector. And I didn't know the DA's office had one"

"Had one what?" said McCoy in that deep voice at her shoulder.

"Executive washrooms"

"We don't have such fat expense accounts either Al. Good to see you Ron"

As they shook hands Eames saw their SUV come around the corner.

"Ooops there's Goren. Better go before he gets it in his head to drive. Then there will be serious losses in the legal community milling around here"

She turned to McCoy "Jack? Try not…"

_"To be too late?"_ he muttered "You too"

"Bye Ron"

She gave McCoy's cheek a peck and made her way across the road between cars drawing up for people and the traffic stopped at lights. Goren was switching round from the driver to the passenger seat.

"Is he that bad?" mused McCoy.

"Drove me once. Exhilarating is probably the best word"

"Speaking of which Ron, got time for a few words and a coffee?"

Carver checked his gold watch with a slight frown "Not really Jack…could…"

They both saw someone approaching fixed on speaking to the DA.

"I'll give you a call later then. Fix a time"

"Okay" said Ron as the car belonging to _Franklin & Levi_ came around the corner.

With the seat and everything else adjusted for the difference in their height, Eames slid the SUV into traffic.

"Did you remember I'm taking a couple of hours owed me Eames?" asked Goren.

"Sure. I'll drop you in the Village on my way round to 1PP"

"Thanks"

"So is it the thesis or decorating?"

"Thesis" he replied "I have yet to be given my orders for the dining room by Caro"

Eames smiled inside. Goren might make out he was under Dr Caroline Reece's thumb but if he was and she severely doubted that, it was because he put himself there. And was patently enjoying every minute. Was more relaxed, happy and at ease with himself than she had ever known him. Though slightly distracted of late perhaps because of the competition for his spare time. Of a Masters degree and getting together their home in Greenwich.

"I wish Jack were as accommodating as you. Do you know we spent most of last evening at my place squabbling about cushions? Did you go through this?"

"No. But then we were going to move somewhere completely new, not letting out one place"

"Could be that" said Eames.

Privately aware that it was something else that really irked Jack. That she was keeping her place in Brooklyn and not throwing in her lot completely to move in with him in Soho. He could see it as a symbolic absence of total commitment to him on her part. But then Goren and Caro did not have quite the same indifferent to bad marital or relationship track record as they did.

"What did you decide?"

"One set of cushions hit the dumpster" muttered Eames.

"His"

She laughed, "You know me too well Goren"

Their conversation turned as it usually did back to work fairly quickly as they headed south through Manhattan. At another set of lights, men with a cherry picker were stringing lights ready for the holiday season.

"Huh?" said Goren seeming almost to wake up, though she knew he wasn't dozing.

"I said three times…who else is going to be in Virginia with you for Thanksgiving?"

"Oh…Mike and Chrissie and the kids"

"How is the little boy doing at kindergarten?"

"You must be thinking of David, Caro's brother. It's him has that little guy. I was meaning Mike and Chrissie from Fort Worth. They have a girl of four and a boy of two"

"Sorry I get confused between Mike, the brother and Mike the brother in law" said Eames.

She knew _"the brother Mike"_ was Deputy Principal of a school for the blind and they had adopted a boy after two girls of their own. One a single Mom had given up when he was diagnosed that way. Through the Reece family Goren had regained a large one after losing his father some years ago and his Mom. And, much more recently and tragically his only brother, Frank. Eames had shot him herself in the middle of a terrible series of events Nicole Wallace was responsible for, even from beyond the grave.

It said something for the professional and personal trust they had established over the years that Goren never for one minute blamed her in any way for that. Knew had things turned out differently, it might have been him who pulled the trigger that day. And would not have _"forgiven"_ himself the rest of his life.

Goren's cell that he had dropped in the cup holder began to ring. Eames did not need to ask. She could tell from his tone throughout the conversation before it ended.

"Male or female corpse?" she enquired.

"Elderly male"

"Sorry you lost your time owed Goren"

"Maybe not all. Grove Street in the Village Eames"

He reached for the lights and sirens to clear them a way through. His mind now firmly focussed as he made a few quick notes in his folder.

_**To be continued…**_

_AN: __If y'all want to know why Frank got shot by Alex and how she got together with Jack McCoy you'll just have to read _"Encore For Adrasteia_"_


	2. Chapter 2

**Thursday 13****th**** November**

_**Grove St, Greenwich Village**_

As she threaded the large SUV through the irregular street pattern of what once was a _"village"_ with countryside between it and the current Manhattan _"Downtown_", Eames wondered how many more of these she and Goren had left. Sudden calls to corpses because the victim or other circumstances indicated it fell into the remit of NYPD's _Major Case Squad_. Something of an elite unit it had to be said, but one she was due to leave sometime, perhaps soon.

It was two months since she passed the selection and testing to become a Lieutenant. Somewhat to her surprise and not a little credit to Bobby. Who had been like an impossible to please drill sergeant to help her prepare for the tests. You had to wait on a slot coming up and your turn before you got to call yourself that and get the paycheck went with it.

Two to three months was about average and with Christmas and the New Year approaching, it was often a time of mini exodus for retirees that would free up jobs at that grade. Helped keep things neat and though Eames had expressed preferences to take account of her changing personal circumstances and interests, the force only allowed you three shots at turning them down. Otherwise you had to take the next precinct or duties offered or go to the back of the line. It did not sit well on your record.

As they drew up outside a bookstore, an emergency ambulance was pulling away and uniformed officers had established some crime tape across the sidewalk. A small group of people stood looking, many of them by their dress or lack of coats, employees from the other stores in the small row of them.

At a door to one side of the display window, led to the apartment above, they approached a portly uniform whose eyes flickered over Goren's own visible under the overcoat.

"Detectives Eames" he indicated his partner switching warm gloves for rubber ones. "And Goren. Major Case"

The cop wiped his nose on the sleeve of his padded jacket. "I was expecting the _Bum Brigade_"

"Oh good Bobby" Eames beamed. "We'll get to go back to our nice warm office at 1PP"

They turned as if to leave, ignoring the pathetic reference to Special Victim's Unit and knowing why it was made. A section of Greenwich Village was, among other things, known for being a focus for the New York gay and lesbian community. Whether the victim was known to be homosexual and thus reason for a call to SVU, they had no clue.

The officer must have thought they were joking as he sort of laughed and pointed them through to speak to an Officer Quigley at the top of the stairs.

"Just kidding"

"I only live a few blocks away. Drop by when you are done here why don't you" said Goren with a look and a pout as he went by him.

Then still in tone of uncertain sexuality added, _"Just kidding Officer"._

Hopefully it was a lesson in attitude he should have learned long ago as he followed Eames into a small hallway and up some steep stairs.

"Don't you dare stop to look Goren!" she ordered him over her shoulder as every tread was piled high with books.

Barely enough room for one person to get by, of course he glanced at them and their subject matter. Books had been his passion since the first picture ones he had as a kid. Still in diapers and learning to point correctly to a _"cat"_ or _"doggy"._ His refuge at times in an upbringing often uncertain and tumultuous, with his Mom's mental illness and his father's growing fecklessness before he left them.

For the latest in his line of adulterous relationships soon after Goren started High School. Had to become a man physically and emotionally without one around to see him through all that entailed. Though given the way Frank his older brother was turning out in his late adolescence with Dad's _"help",_ maybe that was not such a bad thing after all.

"A lot of this looks old, antique even" he said not letting his overcoat knock against some of the piles looked fairly precarious.

"For downstairs I expect" said Eames ahead of him.

"No that's one of those New Age places" Goren said. "We sometimes use the deli a couple of doors away"

At the top of the stairs another uniform awaited them and indicated them through the door to the left.

"You guys were quick"

"Halfway here" said Eames stepping into the room and making the introductions.

It was stuffed with rather old but probably good quality living room furniture and again every surface was book laden. With the walls covered in old black and white photographs. And what looked like several displays cases or plaques of swords, knives and numerous offensive weapons of the pointy or sharp variety.

The body of an elderly man lay on its back on a small patch of open space and carpet. Covered with blood from neck to waist and with some visible slashes in the once yellow vest and white shirted arms.

"Mr Julius Mainwairing" said Officer Lewis. "My partner checking across the hall and I arrived with the paramedics"

"You found him?" asked Goren crouching down to look but not touching ahead of CSU getting there.

"No. His assistant from his bookshop called round when he didn't show up all day" he paused looking at Eames' frown.

"Sorry. His bookshop…_Downtown Militaria and Antique_…is on Pier 17. He is just the tenant here. Nothing to do with the crystals and ginseng crew downstairs. Mrs Walters ran down there screaming when she saw Mainwairing and they called 911. She's still there"

"Mannering" said Goren counting wounds. "Its spelled Mainwairing but a lot of Brits…upper class ones pronounce it Mannering"

"Whatever" shrugged Lewis. "That's why I called for you people…Main…Man…Julius here is a British citizen. How did you know?"

"Magic" said Eames stepping by the body.

"And that picture" Goren gestured. "The British Army Academy…_Sandhurst_…this looks like a young Julius standing in front of it"

"Find a weapon?" asked Eames by the door to the kitchen.

"Kind of short handed here Detective. We figured from the feel of him he's been dead since last night"

Goren was not about to disagree as he went to study a display of knives with one missing, judging by the fading on the red velvet held others with all manner of curious shaped blades.

"Explains why he never got to eat the ham and pineapple pizza from _Romano's _then" said Eames who saw it on the kitchen table. "Was the front door secure when this Mrs Walters arrived?"

"She says so but the one down into the backyard was unlocked. Possible whoever came up that way or maybe he took delivery of the pizza from there"

"No" said Goren heading for the kitchen. "_Romano's _does take out but not delivery"

"I only just got assigned this patch" said the uniform as if excusing not knowing that.

"He's local" said Eames as Goren went into the kitchen for a look around.

"Oh. And by the way Mr Mainwairing here has family. Son and daughter. Doesn't mean he wasn't…isn't um…"

"Gay?" suggested Eames

"Uhuh"

"Wow!!" said Goren's voice behind her.

Eames turned to see he had opened a door she assumed must be a closet or pantry. It was another room. She followed him inside. It was lined with tall dresser units but in the centre was a large rectangular structure.

"Oh great" she muttered. "You found a sand box to play in Goren"

He smiled fractionally at her teasing and picked up a tiny tank.

"More the desert west of Cairo in late 1942. Looks like Julius was creating the second battle of El Alamein. One of the greatest tank battles in history. The retreat and defeat of General Rommel"

"Never heard of it in history class"

"You wouldn't. We were still packing our kit bags. The Brits, Australians and Kiwi's sent _The Desert Fox_ running for Tripoli"

Eames rolled her eyes and left him to play with the sand and miniature armoured vehicles. He was the one with a military background and looked to be in hog heaven in this apartment. She went to be a cop as the CSU people began to arrive. One of them needed to remember to be that with a man despatched earlier than his time to the mess hall where ambrosia was reputed to be on the menu every day.

But when the time came, Eames knew she would really miss occasions like this with Goren and wondered if he felt the same.

_**To be continued…**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Thursday 13****th**** November**

_**Grove Street, Greenwich Village**_

As he completed a quick search of the remaining dresser in Mainwairing's bedroom, Goren knew when her deserved promotion ended his partnership with Eames he would miss her very much. At that moment, as he flipped through clothes folded with military locker precision, her ability in confused circumstances to sift essentials quickly. From the slightly chaotic situation that usually prevailed when a body was discovered and primarily in this case, from the distressed Mrs Walters.

They had always played to their strengths and learned from each other to bolster their weaknesses. Goren just hoped whoever Captain Ross might partner him with in future; he would have enough choice to take that on board. His helping with an initial _"search"_ for anything that might give rise to motive or perhaps the murder weapon was as much to fill time as help. It gave the ME, delayed at a fatal pile up in the Holland Tunnel, time to finish his work and give them a little more information.

"He was a former Colonel" Eames told him as he shut the drawer after feeling for anything taped under it.

"Aged seventy-five, lived here about five years after selling up a place in Queens when the wife died. Well liked, no known enemies and a bit of an eccentric I suppose. Old books and battlefield reconstructions were his thing. And like in here, no sign of robbery in the other rooms. Unless someone stole a rare and valuable tank from El Alamein"

Goren half smiled as he moved to the desk had about the most contemporary thing in the place on it, in the form of a computer. Looking for any obvious place Julius might have left a password.

"That is on account of the mail order side of the business" said Eames. "Mostly he did that from home. Rare books and she thinks he was into specialist chat rooms and sites for the model building fraternity"

"What do they call them? Senior computer users? _Silver Surfers_?" Goren mused opening the desk drawers and taking out some bankbooks.

He handed them to Eames while he went through the stationary and lifted out the drawers. Again no sign of anything _"hidden"_ and it was amazing what you did discover the most unlikely people kept secret.

Eames scanned the statements. "Fifteen grand in his checking account. Irregular income apart from what looks like his British Army pension. Nothing hinkey on the payments. Utilities, rent, groceries mainly. Doesn't look like the business was making much"

"Specialist and small market" he said crawling under the desk with his penlight.

"Mrs Walters says he talked of selling up soon. Moving upstate, maybe in with the daughter who lives in White Plains. Though I guess some of the books around the place could be valuable or even that stuff on the walls"

"Only one obviously missing though" Goren stood up. "Curved bladed knife narrowing towards the hilt. Possibly a kukri"

"Go on" murmured Eames flicking through some check stubs. "Educate me some more"

"Traditional knife of the Ghurkha people of what is now Northern India and Nepal. British Army still has regiments made up exclusively of them"

He gestured to a picture on the bedroom wall.

"Like these guys. Met some in Germany when I was there"

"According to Mrs Walters he was a Scots Guard whatever it is they guard. Scotland I suppose. Are they the ones wear the red coats and have the furry hats you see in pictures?"

"Bearskins and yeah that is the ceremonial dress for five…or is it six regiments, though operationally they are mainly light armoured units"

"I'll take your word for that" said Eames as Goren peered under the bed.

"Anything?"

"Not even dust…oh hi Doc"

He remained sitting on the floor, hugging his knees as the hard-pressed young medic spoke.

"Call it between eight and midnight" he said peeling off bloody gloves. "And I made at least fifteen wounds and there are probably more, but we'll need him on the slab to be sure"

"When?" asked Eames.

"First thing for the basics if we don't get more customers coming in tonight. And we found a sort of greasy substance under the nails of the left hand. Your CSU seems to think it could be theatrical make up"

"Greasepaint?" said Goren who had once dated Jill Quinell was one of those in the apartment.

He knew her folks were seriously into amateur dramatics so she might well know. There had been a few _"scenes"_ in their brief relationship too. When she took the lead role in essentially soliloquies on his shortcomings in terms of time and attention to her. And what, in the final act before she dumped him, she called his _"emotional retardation"._ Not true, so much as _"emotional caution" _on his part_._

"Tests will tell. There's also a lump on the back of his head where he hit it or was hit either in the initial assault or during a struggle. Not much sign of defensive wounds but a man that age and fairly arthritic in the right hand I'd say, he would not take a lot of killing"

Eames recalled how that was almost closed in a fist. "We wondered if that was still rigor or death spasm and something had been slid out from his grip"

"Could be but I doubt it" said the Doc. "So unless…"

"No thanks" she said as he left and turning to Goren.

"And by the way the premises either side use their second floor accommodation for retail or storage so no neighbours to hear a fight. Local precinct are going to canvass later the residents now out at work"

"Alex!" called a voice from across the hall.

It was Jimmy Antonelli in coveralls and waving triumphantly something in a bag.

"Found this in the dumpster down below" he said as they returned to living room where Julius Mainwairing was being bagged for removal.

"Weird kind of knife…looks like a bone handle"

"A kukri" said Eames tapping the wall plaque with an empty space. "From here I expect"

The flirtatious CSU looked disappointed he did not get chance to impress her and slightly shocked. Goren's face was expressionless as he turned to sign some forms.

_**"Romano's", Barrow Street, Greenwich Village**_

Since it was on his way home, Goren left Eames getting the last reports on the initial canvass and then to return to 1PP, while he walked to the restaurant. At some point they would need to make enquiries there. It helped that Fredo Romano who ran the place was both there and they knew each other at little.

It was a decent Italian, but not one so pretentious you needed to dress up or worry what it cost. Something he and Caro had been careful of in recent months, given the spending they could have run into getting their three storey home, as they wanted it. One thing never a source of friction was money. And just as well for their caution and planning, the way things had turned out.

_Romano's _was the place they came ten days ago to belatedly celebrate her birthday and something else, though at that stage she was more inclined to refer to it as _"getting over the shock"._ When he realised Goren was _"on duty"_ Fredo took him into the back office where he was checking the lunchtime takings.

"Yes I know the English Colonel, Rob…or should I say Detective today? Coffee?"

"No thanks I'm on my way home"

"So how can I help? Sit! Sit!"

Goren eased into a chair he lifted from the sidewall.

"We still have formal ID to do but it looks like Julius Mainwairing was murdered in his apartment last evening"

"That's terrible! Thieves?"

"Probably not. How do you know him Fredo?"

"English gentlemen his age are not so common round here. Nice man. He came here maybe once a month? Weekends for dinner. Two or three times with his kids and grandkids…they live out of the city somewhere"

"Uhuh. He ever get take out?"

"Once maybe twice but not for a long time now"

"Not last night?"

"No. I was here myself working the register from six until we closed at eleven. I would have seen him. But I think he did order from _Pepperoni's_…you know…in Washington Place"

Fredo sipped his coffee "He once said shame we don't do delivery because it meant going to the opposition"

"Not as good either" said Goren honestly. "We found one of your take out boxes there. With a medium ham and pineapple, fresh enough to be last night. Any chance you could check on the number you sold last evening?"

"No trouble Rob" he turned to a box of register receipts and pulled one out.

Ten minutes later Goren was leaving with a copy of it, three of the six sold after six accounted for and Fredo's apologies he could not be more helpful. The timing helped him remember one was a regular customer; he had the credit card copies for two others but three cash he could not place. Just knew from the time they had sold it was a very busy period. One of those small buses of tourists came to do a walking tour of the Village with its strong literary associations and there had been a poetry reading at a bar across the street. It had its food license temporarily suspended, so it resulted in a _"rush"_ at the end.

At home Goren still had an hour of the time owed to him and a little more before Caro was due back. The uniform shed, he got out a tray of home made lasagne to cook slowly and went with a coffee to the small study area in a corner of the living room. Pulling down the blind to the small basement yard at the front and switching on the computer.

His head wondering if the Mainwairing family was a happy one as it turned to his thesis. Which just happened to be on the incidence of and motivations for, familial homicide. Whether Monty Mainwairing or his sister Linda Berger murdered or had their father killed could wait. But the name Montgomery did cause a brief light to go on in his head. And remember the name of the British general commanded the Allied forces at El Alamein.

Though it was quite something to saddle your son with for the rest of his life.

_**To be continued…**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Thursday 13****th**** November**

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich Village**_

"Forty minutes to get a quart of milk has to be a record" said Caro as he stepped through the door. "Forget the way back or could it be you went via Washington Place?"

Goren shrugged out of his jacket on the way to the kitchen at the far end of the room. It was true he had walked over there to _Pepperoni._ To discover that the late Colonel Julius Mainwairing was a regular customer on Wednesdays. Either for a ham and pineapple or a four-cheese pizza with a green salad. But last night they had not heard from him at all. He usually called between eight and nine and paid with a credit card, which was one Goren had listed in his notes as found in the guy's wallet.

Like Fredo Romano, they had shown him their electronic records and it occurred to Goren as he walked back on a frosty night, being a _"local"_ had its advantages. Wesley, who was the under manager there, was a neighbour from a few doors down the street.

"You're in the wrong job Caro" he called from the laundry room hanging his coat. "They should make you Chief of Detectives. Did you know the washer has finished?"

"Yeah and I was waiting on you to unload it"

Goren stepped out to put the milk in the icebox.

"And you swore to me forty minutes ago you would only be at that desk another ten"

They looked at each other across the space of the open plan living area for a moment. They both knew it was not about who was going to empty the washer.

"Do you intend to keep up this fussing for another thirty four weeks Rob?" she asked with a smile.

"No. By then I will have moved onto worry and finally, sheer panic"

"Now you see why I wouldn't let you go buy any of those books yet" she laughed turning back to the computer screen. "Five minutes I promise"

Goren returned to the laundry room and let down the suspended airer. It was true that had been one idea he had that she put a stop to. And if he was honest, his faith in the printed word had been severely shaken, though he could not remember where he once read that fact. The one that said the average time couples took to conceive was six months.

But then that was the statistical mask of the mathematical average for you. For every six months there were those who took more and those less. Or one in their case and it highlighted the foolishness of making the assumption you would be _"average"._ So they were both slightly shocked when a _"just in case test"_ turned up positive to explain the delay.

Pretty dumb for two intelligent and well-informed adults, who both stood open mouthed in their bedroom one morning for at least a minute. Do what they did with regularity and enthusiasm and using no contraception and the little stick was liable to turn blue. It was not like they did not want that and it was only later, snuggled together on the sofa after a whole day of bemused planning and, on his part anyway, a little controlled panic, Caro told him. Of her relief.

How being her age she had worried a little in private. That it might be difficult, not happen and them end up doing it to the calendar or a test kit and perhaps some of the joy go out of their bedroom. Everything become _"mechanical"_ or _"biological"_ as she put it.

Another of those things he had maybe taken for granted or not thought about. And she would not let him get a pregnancy/baby book until at very least they had been to see Doc Willoughby, her _ob/gyn_, to get it confirmed. Though that had turned into what Goren suspected was going to be the first of a list of disconcerting experiences for him. Things being done to her it was fine to know in theory and another when you were confronted with the reality.

Reason why the book was still off the agenda until he got used to the idea though he doubted, as he shook out some shirts, whether he would ever achieve the same calm serenity Caro seemed to have about the whole business. And if he did, it would not finally happen until June 17th next year, when the baby was due. Just when there would be real reason to get the anxious and guilty thoughts and conviction of his total inadequacy confirmed. When he passed out in the delivery room or dropped the baby.

"Didn't you do that yet?" said a voice behind him.

He was obviously having one of those _"mind wandering"_ spells a couple of people had commented on in the last few weeks. But her arms round him to give him a hug was the only re-assurance and confidence boost he needed. To know it would all be _"a breeze"_ and leave him wondering what all the fuss was about.

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

Jack McCoy shrugged into an old t-shirt and hopped into bed quickly.

"Don't you dare let those cold feet of yours anywhere near me" muttered Eames.

"You know Al" he thumped his pillows. "I'm fast forgetting why I ever thought this was a good idea. I'm struggling to see what I'm getting out of this deal. Apart from earache"

"Nicer cushions" she giggled as he cuddled into her back.

"And less than twenty five percent of the closet space I once had"

"Oh please" she yawned. "You must have bought some of those clothes when Reagan was in the White House"

"Nixon I think" he conceded.

"Who?"

"Very funny. One more joke like that and I'll cancel the joiners to come construct that closet in the corner of the hall"

Eames half turned "You mean you…"

"Uhuh now just spare me the _I told you it was a good idea Jack_ routine. Just for once"

"Well it was"

"No it was the careful timing of the suggestion that was the smart move Al" he muttered.

That she would not deny. Three days up in Albany and her on night shift for two before that and McCoy had something else at more than just the forefront of his mind.

"You going to _Roark's_ tomorrow evening Detective?"

"Probably unless…"

"No. I'm meeting someone for a drink myself"

"Oh yes?" she said archly.

"Yes I thought I'd get Teresa drunk, take her roughly on the conference table and then tell her I gave the job to Eric Stoller"

Eames snorted with laughter "I wish you wouldn't say things like that McCoy. We have a meeting with her in the morning. I shall have images now"

"Legal briefs hitting the floor you mean"

She slapped his hand off her breast. "Be serious a moment. What are we going to do? About the dinner invitations for one?"

"Turn them all down for now"

"Including Tommy Chong?"

"Especially City Councillor Chong. He just aims to lobby for Pat McCann"

"Didn't know that and maybe as well"

"Why?" yawned McCoy.

"It was his son Jaden? The double murder at his house in Chelsea 18 months ago"

"The one that led to Bobby getting stabbed?"

"Uhuh"

"Must have missed that in the allocution papers I saw"

"No comment"

"Ah I see. Things were kept simple in court for the judge were they? Or rather the press"

"No comment. And in any event I guess it was irrelevant in the end"

"Bobby okay Al?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just seemed pre-occupied when I saw him before the service"

"Behind with the thesis I think" Eames sighed. "But you know him. I expect he aims to have it done at least six weeks before it's due. So who are you having a drink with?"

"No comment. Unless…" his hand was moving again.

"Forget it. I'd rather remain in ignorance"

"Just as well" McCoy yawned. "Breakfast meeting at the State Attorney's office"

"Hmm" she relaxed more against him.

Content for all she said to Jack at times and for the offer Goren made to go via the morgue himself in the morning. It would give her a little longer in bed.

_**To be continued…**_

_AN :_ _The Chelsea murder case, Bobby getting stabbed and how he met Caro are explained in _"A Wide Open Country"


	5. Chapter 5

**Friday 14****th**** November**

_**Interview Room 2, Major Case Squad**_

"No. Sorry I don't know his passwords Detective Eames" said Monty Mainwairing reaching into his jacket pocket. "But I did bring a set of keys I have to Dad's shop. I don't know if you found his…though I guess Ruby will have…"

"Yes Mr Mainwairing" she said kindly. "We do have Mrs Walter's keys but thank you. And to your knowledge there are only three sets? To the shop and the apartment"

"My sister has them for the apartment. Do you…"

"No" she said. "We don't need them. And while it's no…any consolation to you, the best we can gather so far with Ruby's help, there is nothing obviously missing from the shop"

"So you have no idea why this happened?"

"Not yet"

"If I think of anything…"

Eames paused a moment "There is one thing…rather difficult so I hope…"

The middle-aged man smiled a little.

"I think I know what you are going to say. Was my father secretly gay…oh don't worry Detective…it was a kind of family joke. When Dad decided to sell up the Queens house, give the money to Linda and me for our kids, he chose Greenwich on purpose. After he met Mom in Germany and she quit Army nursing, she was living there. When they were dating…what Dad always called courting. It had fond memories for him and I was conceived there during one of his quick trips across the Atlantic on leave before they got married"

"Thank you" Eames stood up and went to the door. "One of the officers out here will take you to complete the paperwork and make the formal ID"

As Mainwairing went down the hall she saw Goren chase after him a little, say a few words and then return. He rolled around the door and shut it, to perch on the edge of the table with his folder in his hands.

"How much of that did you see?"

"Last few minutes. Doesn't seem like there's a family motive Eames. They got the bulk of what he's worth"

Eames checked some papers "Could be but the stock at the shop is insured for six hundred grand and cover for individual items up to ten grand apiece. Until the inventory gets completed there could be one or two valuable items missing"

"I was thinking about that. We have no idea the value of the antiquarian stuff. Maybe we should ask Ross for some expert help on valuation?"

"Maybe" Eames sat back. "The lab is well backed up to get into the computer he had at home. Though Mrs Walsh says the stock details on that should be the same as the one at the shop"

"And the daughter?"

"Spoke to her on the phone. Coming in Monday. Was scheduled to take Mrs Berger, the mother in law for chemo today, so couldn't really cancel out. Don't doubt hers and his story for Wednesday will check out and I don't see motive yet. So what did you learn from our friend Dr Rogers?"

They both liked Liz Rogers. She was a damn good pathologist and her laconic and ironic demeanour, in conjunction with herself or Goren had sometimes taken the edge off some pretty grisly findings.

"TOD narrowed to between nine and ten based on stomach contents"

Goren unzipped his folder. "Had tea and cake with someone along the street late afternoon apparently. He was fairly arthritic in both hands which ties with medication CSU bagged in the bathroom"

He spread out one or two pictures of the upper part of the body taken once it was stripped and washed.

"Shit" breathed Eames

"Twenty three wounds in all" Goren pointed. "This probably the fatal one because it ruptured the aota so that's cause. But any of these four might have caused death"

"Talk about overkill"

She glanced up to see that Goren expression told her that he and Rogers or some combination of the two, had a theory about that.

"So? Don't torment me Goren, I didn't get my morning muffin yet"

"Oh" he replied in a tone suggested he knew the danger he was in. "Apart from these which are deep, more a stabbing motion and in a downward direction?" he mimed the action. "All the rest are much more superficial. Small cuts, some of them down here on the lower arms more knicks…barely broke the skin. Probably when he was on the floor"

"Was running out of places by then" Eames muttered. "Some kind of ritual? Or someone really hated Julius to do that to him…and I can't see that from this Oliver Shank…"

"Who?" Goren frowned.

"Closest Monty or Ruby came up with for an enemy. Bookseller over in Brooklyn in his late fifties. Business rivals for close to twenty years…but I still see that _great idea_ look on your face"

Goren looked slightly hurt to be teased before he said, "Was Liz said it, not me. Julius? Twenty-three stab wounds?"

Eames frowned "Don't tell me…"

"Uhuh. That's how many times more than one Roman literary source says Caesar was stabbed"

"It's November not March"

Goren smiled then took a bag from his pocket. Inside were two flesh coloured pieces of plastic.

"I thought I could see these in his ears yesterday afternoon but not moving the body…"

"They look like earplugs to me"

"They are Eames. I wondered if he wore them at night, was getting ready early for bed…or if they were those tiny hearing aids, which obviously they are not. And Monty just said he never knew his Dad to wear earplugs. Quite the reverse, as he was losing some hearing

"And you think the killer put them there?" Eames gave him a threatening glance. "And if you say _'friends, Romans, countrymen lend me your ears'_ I swear Goren you won't live to see lunchtime"

"Interesting though Eames and let's be honest _'hey guys and home boys listen up to what I have to say'_ doesn't have the same literary resonance to it"

She did snort with laughter at that one.

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Goren watched for a moment as Eames left with Jose Sanchez and Helen Baxter to execute a search warrant Teresa Randle had extracted from a judge, in relation to one of the other cases on their desks right now. The two young detectives not exactly rookies, but the personification of the latest scheme hatched by Danny Ross and his boss, Dick Nichols, in the ongoing quest to address the staffing issues applied to a number of 1PP specialist squads.

They and units like _Central Vice, Fraud_ and even _Organised Crime _might be the subject of negative comment at times from their peers based in the precincts. Saw them as taking all the _"best"_ cases and more to the point, all of the plaudits when things went well. But the fact was, in modern crime you could not expect every detective to acquire the level of expertise in every area they might need. And ironically, once people had the time served, the record and expertise to be of use, they were often reluctant to shift to a central unit.

By then, they had their personal and social lives embedded in Brooklyn or Queens or wherever and even with some extra allowances, being Manhattan based often went with a longer commute. More time away from home together with work took you across all Five Boroughs, regularly into the surrounding counties and without the tidy geography and local contacts you built up in a precinct setting. So the latest idea was to rotate in younger personnel or the brightest and best from _"detective school"_. That gave them a _"taste"_ for the _"big leagues"_ as the Chief of D's had explained it, some useful extra experience and training to take back to their precincts and gave them the bodies they sometimes needed.

To do things you could not leave with a civilian and to provide the back up they often wanted for some routine work. Where an experienced second, third or fourth Major Case detective was an expensive and not always best, use of their time. Jose and Helen were the first such pair. That left him free while they supported Eames, to get his head around some of the lab reports, speak to this Oliver Shank might save them a hike out to Park Slope in Brooklyn and study the data CSU had finally managed to extract from Mainwairing's PC.

Goren had just read the confirmation that the greasy substance found under a couple of the old bookseller's nails was, indeed greasepaint, when Danny Ross appeared at his shoulder.

"Why exactly do you and Alex need a couple of hours overtime on Sunday, Bobby?"

There was the scepticism in his tone often came from a man with the financial books to balance.

"We don't" he replied. "I need to continue clearing my backyard if the weather is good"

Ross almost smiled "And buy the lady a nice dinner if you don't?"

"Not quite" Goren clicked his mouse a couple of times, turned the laptop and gestured.

"_Five Boroughs Battlefield Constructors Annual Miniature Exhibition_. Sounds riveting" muttered Ross

"Its also one day only Captain. We think from his diary, Julius Mainwairing was either planning to attend or exhibit. And it's our best chance of identifying these people"

He clicked again as the screen filled. "This is a list of his electronic contacts in that world. A lot of them hard to trace web mail addresses.

"And you think he was killed for some foam rubber for trees to re-create Gettysburg?" asked Ross.

"It's either that, something to do with his business, totally random though too well planned for that or an idea I'm under instruction from my partner not to tell you"

"Okay. I agree before we go the random route let's see what flies on the others. And what is the certain to give me an ulcer theory?" shrugged the Captain. "Just for a Friday afternoon funny?"

"That because of the wounds, his name, things in his ears and greasepaint at the scene, Julius was killed in a bizarre recreation of the death of Caesar. Possibly by a Shakespearean scholar or a frustrated actor"

There was a long pause.

"You know what really pisses me off Bobby? That you keep a straight face when you say that kind of thing"

"Thank you"

"You got the overtime and if I hear you are checking the basements of theatres on Broadway for disfigured phantoms, you'll be back directing traffic in Times Square"

Goren's face still managed not to crack. _"Sir?"_ he frowned.

"Stop playing dumb, though I guess Julius Caesar was never an opera"

"Actually it is. A not often performed work by Handel"

"I hate you Goren"

"Thank you sir"

They at least parted with a smile to each other.

_**To be continued…**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Friday 14****th**** November**

_**The "North Star" Pub, South Street**_

It was an historic bar in Manhattan, known for keeping close to one hundred varieties of single malt whiskey. One reason to be there and on the table where two men sat, were two different examples. One so pale it was almost clear and the other more golden in colour.

The second reason for them meeting there was it was well away from the other watering holes where lawyers tended to hang out. Where one or both might be recognised, though in jeans and sweater and with an old padded jacket on the back of the chair, you would not guess that was the DA for New York. Your money would be on the sharp suited, beautifully accessorised man sitting across from him.

The one who had listened and was fractionally loosening his tie and collar to better swallow. And not whiskey. Ron Carver sat taking it in another moment, before he spoke.

"There are…um…aspects of what you just said that are interesting Jack but…I would need to discuss it with my wife"

"I realise that" McCoy folded his hands. "And I might be able to squeeze a little more on the salary"

"It's not just about that" Carver took a sip of his pale scotch from a tiny distillery in Ireland.

"Look" said the DA "You can't tell me you really get a lot of fun out of pleadings for a bunch of rich, white folks on misdemeanours. When was the last time working at _Franklin & Levi_ really gave you chance to stretch your legal sinews over more than half a lap? Or you felt you were actually doing something worthwhile? You are a born prosecutor Mr Carver, it's in your blood, your temperament…your…your value system"

McCoy sensed some of that hit home and he not come exactly unprepared without a lot of homework done.

"You made your point Jack. So that's the tactic is it? Sweeten me with your perception of the kind of role you want the new _Exec ADA_ to do, flatter me that I have the qualities to do it, hint at more money and now bully me with my moral obligation?"

McCoy shrugged, smiled and took a sip of his favourite from Tennessee.

Carver leaned forward a little "Tell me something. Do you intend running a second term?"

"Why? Thinking to the inside straight yourself?"

The younger man shook his head "Not yet. Though I suspect there are some in the office, Pat McCann, for example who would think of a challenge"

"I know and that's not why I don't want her. And to answer your question? I really don't know" McCoy made a crossing motion over his heart. "Problem is Ron it takes you just about two years to work out what you want to do, begin to clear the brush your predecessor left behind and just as you start to see the way clear, you are thinking to election again"

"Unless you are Arthur Branch" muttered Carver.

He had been one of the reasons Carver quit in the first place. He had swept through the office like a new broom but with old ideas. Alienating Carver was, to McCoy's mind, one of his half dozen biggest mistakes and it was not just he who thought so.

"Who?" smiled McCoy.

"How long do I have?"

"Can't give you more than a week Ron. If you say no…well I'll need to have a total re-think. Give me a call…you have my private number…if you want any clarification"

Carver downed the rest of his scotch "You want another?"

Jack's brows rose to see him bolt a drink like that and suggest a second. Ron was notably abstemious with alcohol. Which was not a bad thing of course.

"Why not, though…"

"Well I need one" said Carver getting to his feet. "And probably several more before I mention this to my wife"

McCoy watched him head for the bar suspecting arrival home worse for scotch, was not the way to convince Mrs Carver. Her ambitions were reputedly in the financial and lifestyle direction and been another part of why Carver left in the first place. But one piece of ammunition McCoy had up his sleeve was the knowledge Paul; the eldest son got a full scholarship to that fancy prep school. So the heat was off a little now. And at least Ron had not laughed or totally dismissed the idea. It was a good start.

**Saturday 15th November**

_** The Cafeteria, 1PP**_

"Move that will you Bobby" said Mike Logan

"Sorry" he gathered up some of the papers he had spread out so his colleague could put down his tray.

"Give yourself an ulcer working at the lunch table. And on one of the few days it is possible to eat sat on your ass"

"Is Eames on her way?"

"Just taking the report from our two little _Power Rangers_"

Goren smiled at Logan's name for young Sanchez and Baxter. They were a little like that with their energetic enthusiasm. One reason to set them onto tracking down the possible purchasers of the pizza at Mainwairing's. And checking the current and a few past employees of _Romano's. _People who might have access to a take out box and something Tony had offered to let him have details of the other night. Just as well because after checking the box for prints, the pizza was thrown away by mistake so the restaurant never got chance to confirm it was one of theirs.

He was cross-referencing a list Oliver Shank had supplied of his regular customers. As expected, he was never a serious contender to kill Julius and in any case could not be better alibied. Was having one of his three times a week kidney dialysis sessions at the time and though he and the Brit had had their fallouts, it was never mean.

One outbidding the other at an auction, a bit of customer poaching and Shank, horrified to hear what happened, was co-operating. Sending a list with additional notes would help them confirm bona fide rare book collectors from any unusual or unexpected data in Julius' records.

"They seem to be okay Mike"

"I know. They just make me feel old. Or do you still have that young luuurve spring in all parts of your anatomy?" Logan winked between eating stew.

"No comment"

Goren glanced across the room to see Elliot Stabler at the _"take out"_ counter. He gave a sort of wave to the guy had saved him from bleeding to death when he got stabbed by a suspect. After years of quiet hostility between them over something happened when Goren worked Narco. The gesture in return was one indicated he could not stop.

"Now there's a man with trouble" said Logan.

"I heard his wife is pregnant again" said Goren who was never one for gossip, but it was fairly common knowledge.

That for a time Elliot and Kathleen had separated but were now back together. Possibly for the sake of a baby conceived as the result the sort of accidental _"one-off"_ some people found themselves doing in that situation. Apparently.

"Take it from Uncle Mike" Logan tapped his nose with the end his fork. "Stabler will be heading back to a precinct somewhere near home very soon"

"Put in a lot of years in SVU. Takes its toll I guess" said Goren tidying away his own dishes.

"Not just that. Boy, you know nothing. Word has it while he was separated or around the same time that happened, he finally was doing the horizontal two-step with Benson. Something I hear Kathleen suspected him of off and on for years. Thought you would know that, with Alex and her being buddies"

Goren glanced over the table. "We don't gossip like some people Mike and I don't think Liv and Alex see so much of each other. I got the impression one time her and Jack was something Benson…well didn't approve"

Logan swallowed and snorted. "And Liv Benson's disapproval _is _something to be avoided. Though you made your getaway in time"

"Excuse me? There was never…"

"I know that" Logan sighed. "I mean her latest good idea, now Elliot did the job on his wife and not her, is she's looking for a sperm donor. The patter of tiny feet?"

"I really wonder sometimes where you get all this BS from Mike" Goren said standing to leave.

"You wait and see if I'm not right. And it won't be me I can assure you. By direct mail or courier service. Trouble with the patter of tiny feet, is in a year or two they become a thundering stampede through your wallet"

Right now, that was really not the sort of cynicism Goren needed to hear.

**Sunday 16****th**** November**

_**Central Library, Grand Army Plaza, Brooklyn**_

Goren led Eames into the building he knew so well. His Mom had worked there for a time and he still had memories of being overwhelmed by the size of it as a small child. When Dad would take him and Frankie to meet her or a few times with child care problems, they would spend an hour or two in the stacks _"helping"_ her.

Later, as she began to experience severe on-set of schizophrenia and he was older, it was sometimes a refuge or place of escape for him. The place when he was about ten he first found a book to help him understand what was wrong with Mom. And later still, it was the place in High School he did a lot of homework. For access to the books, which helped make him a _"straight A"_ student.

Behind them, Jack and Caro whose own weekends were kind of messed by this, though the former had offered to help. He was after all, an officer of the court and afterwards, he and Caro were going to call socially on Father John and Lewis. Other demands on their time meant they had not seen either in a while and it made sense since they were over the East River.

At the entrance to the model-building event in one of the library's suite of rooms for art shows and exhibits, there was a big display board explaining something of the society and what it did.

"Sheesh" said Eames tapping a picture." This certainly puts the space your fishing gear takes up into perspective Jack"

It showed a man standing proudly beside a vast _"battlefield"_ he built, which seemed to fill most of the living space in a room. It consigned a tiny Christmas tree to a remote corner and it looked like you would need to crawl under it to get in and out of the doorway.

"Looks like most of the Pacific campaign against the Japanese" said McCoy.

"Uhuh" confirmed Goren. "That's _Iwo-Jima_"

"Oh great" muttered Eames. "We will be here all day now"

"You're getting paid for it" growled McCoy.

"Don't even think about it Rob" said Caro at his side as they went to the doorway. "I can think of many other hobbies for you to get interested in"

"When you allow me time for them. Be sure to let me know when that will be Caro"

"You'll have to come ice fishing with me sometime this winter Bobby" suggested McCoy.

"Don't let him Caro. Ice fishing is really sitting in a cabin reading a book about flies and drinking scotch. You take the little sandboxes on the left Goren" said his partner. "We'll start on the right"

Goren looked for some notes in his pocket feeling seven years old again. About the last time any woman told him what to do and what he was not allowed, twenty-four seven. And then it had only needed one to do it.

_**To be continued…**_

_**AN: **The "history" between Goren and Stabler is explained in _"A Wide Open Country"_  
_


	7. Chapter 7

**Monday 17****th**** November**

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Goren and Eames had just returned from some interviews in connection with another case, when Helen Baxter asked for a word with them. They had put her onto tracking down some of the contacts from the model building websites Julius Mainwairing had records of in his computer. When they turned up no obvious business motive or gossip among his buddies to kill him.

Unless you counted the fact Julius was due to be one of the judges for the competition, which was running alongside the public display and small trade fair. In that case, your money would be on what Eames described as _"a geek's geek"._ A bespectacled, minor IRS official in his forties, who still lived with the Mom who knitted his sweater. On which his second prize rosette, was pinned. A rosette he asserted he would not have got had the late Colonel been judging. On account he was _"prejudiced"_ against tableau that showed anything British in a bad light.

They severely doubted that would be motive enough for murder, though you might think so as he emoted over his coffee table sized _"Saratoga"._ In their job, you met people who killed other people for the strangest of reasons. But to get rid of a judge to increase your prospects in a model competition, would have to be the most bizarre.

"I ran a check on the old discussions the victim took part in on this site" said Baxter switching the view on her screen and then pointing.

Goren leaned over and read a couple of messages aloud from a forum.

"Great" muttered Eames. "No wonder parents worry about what their kids say on line. I'm starting to worry about my Dad now"

"You would still need to know who _'ColonelThistle'_ was though Alex. To be able to make use of the fact he says here he orders in Italian most Wednesday nights"

"You would Helen" said Goren quietly. "But our impression from various people yesterday and his assistant at the shop, was Julius was like a lot of seniors. Would talk with an innocent enthusiasm about his interests and hobbies or his military career at places like the shop. Not consider some one who called in a stranger and possibly reveal that sort of information"

Eames looked up at him with a resigned expression and he shrugged fractionally. They both knew Helen Baxter had found in an out of the way, but still public place, how someone could have worked out how to gain entry to the Grove Street apartment or at least got Mainwairing to open the door.

It still did not explain _"why"_ anyone would want to kill him, but your money would have to be on one of the two purchasers of ham and pineapple pizza at _Romano's_ they had not tracked down. Though finding the fourth was equally smart work by Sanchez on Friday. When he found via the walking tour company, a bemused couple from Nebraska packing their bags at a mid-town hotel.

**_Office Of The Captain, Major Case Squad_**

Their weekly supervision was one of the last Danny Ross did that day and they did not spend too long on the Mainwairing case. Because of other cases were more urgent and unfolding. As he said it was early days on that, though with nothing from the canvass of the neighbourhood, uncovering motive remained the key.

"If we can clear the Corby murder tomorrow, now we've blown the alibi the girlfriend gave him, we can hit the phones and try a mail shot to the people Julius just had e-mail contacts for" said Eames.

"Bobby?" said Ross after a pause when he gave no reaction.

"Huh…yeah sure"

"You don't sound it"

"Sorry just thinking how to tackle Corby"

"With a swift knee where it hurts if we are right on motive" muttered his partner.

Goren was tempted to suggest Eames take first shot at that. Right now he was _"blocked"_ on that one. Could not see a way _"into the head"_ of a man in all probability killed his pregnant wife primarily for that reason.

As they left a few minutes later, she glanced up at him.

"For a moment there I wondered if you were about to suggest the Shakespearean angle for real" she joked.

"I was" he lied.

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

"Hello Alex Eames" she said picking up what was the private line.

"_Oh, yes…um hello Alex. It's Ron Carver. Is Jack there?"_

"Hello Ron. He had better be very soon or his dinner will be in the trash and the chain on the door"

"_I see. Well when he's eaten could you ask him if he could call me back. At home. He has the number"_

"Yes of course"

_"Thank you…um…goodbye"_

"Bye Ron"

"_Interesting"_ she thought on her way back to the kitchen.

Other than a couple of times on Bar Association business, Ron was not a frequent caller while she had been living half her time at McCoy's since the spring. Nothing improper of course, in a private defence attorney calling the DA, so long as the conversation remained _"proper"._ But Jack was not one of those lawyers ever socialised exclusively in those circles, unlike some and if anything her impression was he had _"loosened"_ some of those social connections. Either for that reason, or because his official social obligations took up enough time.

And Eames knew Ron Carver well enough to know when he was saying a lot by what he was _not_ saying. No indication what it was about. Though as she turned down the stove to reduce the chances of them both ending up with a burned dinner, Eames reckoned she could have a good guess what it might be. It would make for an interesting situation and put the cat among the pigeons of the senior ADA's like Teresa Randle if they knew.

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich Village**_

They separated their bodies but settled into close, cuddling and cosy contentment after something else Goren knew he had a moment of irrational hesitation about on the first occasion after they realised Caro was pregnant. What he was not sure about, until Doc Willoughby had mentioned it, was whether it was just him. Whether he was having bizarre and unique worries no other man ever had. Apparently not and the one thing the Doc said not to do, Goren was left wondering if anyone ever did. As he and Caro said afterwards, they were almost left wishing they didn't have to wait now until they could safely try that.

They lay holding and kissing and stroking in contented silence for a few minutes.

"I knew there was something I meant to tell you Rob"

"Mmm?"

There was never any telling with her what was about to come next.

"I saw Finn today. At the hospital"

"He okay?" he frowned

"Oh yes…it was work. Something to do with one of the ER nurses" she yawned. "Just met him in the hall on my way to see an RTA patient. Young guy driving a car in which his best friend got killed"

"Drunk?"

"No. Those are sometimes easier. They know the why. Said to say hello and sorry he's not made it to _Roark's_ lately"

"Should give him a call. See how he's doing with that kid of his"

"Hardly a kid"

"Guess not. Must be older now than Finn was when he fathered him and I think you know he almost went the wrong way in the projects himself"

"Hard to make up lost time you mean?"

"Uhuh"

"One problem you won't have" she kissed him softly. "See? I knew we would find one thing for you not to fret about"

He kissed her back, stroking her almost washboard belly gently. "You can talk. Who was it saying earlier they were sure they were imagining symptoms because they think they ought to feel different?"

"It's true and no doubt when I get them, I'll wish they were just imaginary. Imaginary vomiting, phantom swollen feet and hallucinating piles"

"All of which will my fault?"

"Of course" Caro yawned. "It happened when I was asleep. Don't remember a thing about it. You done communing with junior now?"

"Mmm" he yawned reaching for the light.

_**To be continued…**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Tuesday 18****th**** November**

_**Interview Room 1, Major Case**_

Ross watched Goren and Eames interviewing Noel Corby, suspected wife killer and wondered how much longer he would leave it before interrupting with some excuse. A chance to get them out of there and re-group, because they were fast ploughing into the sand.

For some reason Goren did not seem to have his _"game day head"_ on. Which in turn, left Eames not sure which way to go herself. The tactics seemed right, but for some reason Bobby was unable or unwilling to finish him off, go in for the kill or use the words, which might break him.

It was not like Corby had a lawyer with him who was being especially obstructive or protective, which meant you needed to take care or some would walk their client out. And threaten you with a complaint. Nor was it something Ross had often seen before.

Everyone he supposed had an _"off day"_ and though he did not look it, the Captain supposed Goren might be unwell. Then, just as Ross was about to leave the observation room, Goren stood up, moved to the corner behind Corby and his lawyer and made a brief gesture with his hands to his partner.

Not one exactly of surrender, but acknowledgement he needed help or for her to take the lead. Eames did so almost immediately, switched around and by the time Goren's broad back was facing Ross again, they were back on track. The fact Bobby knew he was struggling this time, as important for him to realise and act on as to continue the interrogation. Ross ceased to be so concerned.

It was times like this the Captain wondered if he should ever have encouraged Alex to go for promotion. And begin to develop a headache about whom he could partner with Goren in future. Not just someone he would not drive nuts with some of his _"quirks"_ but someone who could keep up with him and rein in him now and then. The strange thing was, looking back over Bobby's record, he seemed to have gelled with a wide range of _"types"_ and then had problems with others who were superficially similar.

There was no pattern or ironically with Goren, no profile, to go on. For Ross, as Eames just about nailed Corby's wife killing hide to the interview room floor, there was one obvious person. Except it would not be best use of personnel and strength across the Squad.

Though as he left for his office he did have a private smile at the idea of Bobby and Mike Logan together. That really would be a different take on _"Bad Boyz"._

**Wednesday 19****th**** November**

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Goren, phone stuck to his ear, looked up from his notes as Eames had a little giggle opposite him. Then she popped another jellybean in her mouth and clicked to the next message. She was checking responses to the mail shot they did.

He ended the conversation with a military book collector in Hertford, Connecticut and crossed him off the list. Even if he did have an unseemly and tactless interest in the final fate of Colonel Mainwairing's private collection. And want to know if he knew what his heirs planned to do with it.

"Oh brother" sighed Eames. "Next time we do this Goren, it can go out in your name"

"Why?" he reached for his coffee.

"Because there seem to be a lot of lonely and desperate men in this group. One's looking for a date" she muttered. "Or perverts. One even sent me a picture"

"Was he cute?" he teased her.

"Hard to tell under the Samurai costume. Want to look for yourself?"

"No thanks. I'm off the market"

"Don't be so sure" she frowned at the screen waiting for it to respond. "Another wanted a picture of me in my uniform. So I dug out one from the archive of your graduating class and…"

"You didn't!" Goren spluttered.

"Uhuh"

She turned and grinned at him. "And you really don't want to know what he said in response to that"

He was not sure he believed her at all but the decision, whether to _"play along"_ a little or just ignore it, was interrupted. By a call from Eric Stoller to confirm they would be needed in court later, for what should be routine testimony. They were witnesses when a cop and a precinct based CSU technician got run down and badly injured by a _"rubber necking"_ driver at a crime scene in Central Park some months back.

_**100 Centre Street (New York Criminal Court)**_

Eames was waiting in the lobby for Goren, who had been called second to the stand, to get done in the rest room when her telephone rang. It was Central Despatch, which had received a call from an Officer Quigley of the Sixth Precinct.

As Goren appeared shrugging into his overcoat, she was pulling the car keys from her pocket.

"I never knew Greenwich was such a dangerous place for elderly men Goren"

His head tilted slightly with a frown.

"I just spoke to Quigley…the cop from Grove Street…seems there is another stabbed senior. Only this time he's not alone"

"Where?"

"Washington Street, block between Horatio and Gansevoort" she said as he held open the door.

"That's only about a mile from Grove Street"

"Uhuh. If this is the same person we need to catch them before you get any older Goren. This victim was only sixty-two. Either that or you need to think about moving"

"And the other?"

"Girl" said Eames as they hurried towards the parking garage "Mid twenties. Quigley is checking with the MP's if it could be a daughter"

"MP's?"

"I'll tell you in the car. And by the way it sounds like a smelly one"

_**Washington Street, Greenwich**_

On the way Eames explained and tossed him her pocket book in which she had scribbled some essentials. The victim, one Arthur Willard aged sixty-two, a retired city employee from the Engineer's Department. An African American and the reason the Military Police got involved was that his son, a Captain, was currently in Afghanistan. Unable to contact his father or track him down anywhere he might be and with the restrictions and difficulties in the field, he had pulled a few strings. Got the MP's Stateside to exert a little pressure on NYPD he had called once himself, to do more than they had the first time.

When they arrived at the scene, the ME's truck and car were outside and CSU suiting up. On the fourth floor of the apartment block there was a faint smell of decomp the moment they stepped out of the elevator.

A resident a few doors along was complaining to one of the uniformed officers taping off the part of the hallway.

"Afternoon sir" said Eames in no mood for types like that. "Why don't you step inside and shut your door? We'll be along later to ask you to account for your movements. And why you failed to notify the police your neighbour, Mr Willard, might be missing"

Goren's lips twitched as the man blustered.

"But I…are you suggesting…but…"

"Have any problems with him yourself did you Mr…um..Smith" Goren checked the name on the door and leaned in a little on the guy. "Is that your real name by the way?"

They had barely gone a step when it slammed shut behind them.

"We meet again Officer Quigley" said Eames at the threshold where the smell was more marked.

"Called you because of the similarities Detective Eames"

He led them inside, first to a bathroom on the right. "Saw her first"

Inside, the naked body of a young African American woman was under water in the tub.

"She's not the daughter as we thought. She lives in Los Angeles" he clarified as Goren stepped in unfastening his shirt cuff, in case he needed to put his hand in the water.

"You take initial pictures?"

"No"

"Never mind. ID?"

"Not yet. We wonder if she might be a cleaner or some sort of carer"

"Could you check with Social Services then? And missing persons?" asked Eames joining her partner at the side of the bath.

"Doubt she's a cleaner with nails like that Goren"

As he lifted one hand from the water, they were long, probably acrylic, painted bright red and not chipped.

"Looks like signs of strangulation round the neck" he mused then turned his head and leaned over.

Eames said nothing as Goren appeared to be looking _"up"_ between the woman's thighs and she didn't doubt had he been able to touch her he might have spread them. You either got used to that sort of thing with him or you didn't.

"See?" he indicted. "That mark could be bruising but…but not on the other leg which would indicate rough sex…or maybe a tattoo?"

"Tattoo I'd say. What ladies sometimes refer to as a _'road map'_ or a _'street sign'_ in that position. Some guys like them…more need them "

Eames saw the brief quizzical expression on Goren's face before he worked that one out and then a fractional flush. One almost tempted her to tease him with a comment or question.

Instead she said "Lot of hookers have them, not as you would know that of course. But if she is, I don't see anything like track marks the obvious places"

"Me neither" he replied as Doc Hathaway called to them.

"Don't want to leave it too long before we get him out of here" the doc said "He'll be a popper"

The smell from the living room at the end of the hall was close to overpowering. The body of Arthur Willard in a far more advanced stage was bloated and you could see the reason why. He was lying next to the window beside a radiator, which this time of year could be on a lot of the time. A window someone had lifted to try to dissipate some of the odour of death and decay.

"The officers told me it was the smell drew them to this room. Didn't see him until they drew back these drapes. And I'd say you could estimate two weeks for him. And you can see yourself it was a stab wound to the gut"

"That fits with when the son last spoke to him" said a cop behind them as he came in the room.

"You find the body?" asked Goren.

"Uhuh" he had a handkerchief to his nose. "But the blood is mostly on the kitchen floor Detective"

"So I see" said Eames standing by the door and not going in until CSU had done their stuff. "Means he was moved. Can see some smear marks Goren"

She turned to see him messing with the drapes.

"You thinking Caro might like them?"

"No" he was running his hand down them and stretching out the folds of the floor length dark velvet green drapes.

"Eames?" he said softly

She watched his gloved fingers poke through from the back. Through a cut or tear in the fabric. Then glance out the window.

"And this apartment looks out on the corner of Washington and Horatio"

For a moment they looked at each other before Eames said quietly "I wonder if Mr Willard was a man who believed in neither borrowing nor lending"

"Or to his own self was true" replied Goren.

_**To be continued…**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Wednesday 19****th**** November**

_**Washington/Horatio Street, Greenwich**_

Between them Goren and Eames explained to the uniform with the weak stomach about _"Hamlet"._ How _The Prince of Denmark_ killed, with a sword thrust through a drape, a man called Polonius whose daughter he was dating. It was Polonius who had offered the advice about borrowing/lending and honesty that later become well known and often, misquoted homilies. His daughter subsequently drowned, but Hamlet's closest friend was called _"Horatio"._

He did not look convinced as Hathaway went to examine the woman's body and CSU cleared them to have an initial look in the bedroom as they were done taking pictures. It appeared neat and undisturbed.

Goren opened the closet and immediately handed out to Eames a purse he found in the bottom.

"Senior year lit class I'm guessing. Was for me"

"Yes" she said tipping it out on the bed after a quick look at the sheets. "No obvious signs of sex"

"And I think we can discount the cleaner theory" said Goren.

When she turned he was holding up a red cocktail dress on a hanger under a short fake fur coat and almost transparent bra and panties.

"Not exactly thermal for the time of year are they?"

"No" said Eames. "And I think these confirm our suspicion about the lady

On the bed she had moved to one side about half a dozen condoms from something fairly regular through to the _"fun"_ or exotic sort.

"Something to suit every occasion and a little more"

Goren ignored a handful of small sex toys and aids his partner had separated out and had no intention of risking an Eames joke at his expense, given what one of them was. Though he had a retort ready, just in case, as he ducked to look under the bed and pulled out a pair of black patent high-heeled shoes.

"You worked out a way yet of explaining how they might have killed each other?" he asked as he set those on the cover and stood up.

"Give me time" she murmured going through a wallet. "At least she's not called Ophelia"

"_Chelsea Banks 'Classy Companions Escort Service'_. On 116th" he read from the card. "Know it?"

"Out of touch with those places now. Driver's licence says her real name is Doris Bunker. Address in The Bronx" said Eames "Can see why she used a professional one"

"I guess it's possible Mr Willard hired her, killed her and…"

"And then someone came in, killed him and ignored the body in the bath. Or staged her same as they must have staged him behind the drapes. I call that very lucky for them" Eames growled.

"I call it ridiculous" shrugged Goren "But someone is bound to try that scenario. And if he's been dead two weeks, this came before the Colonel"

"Please don't tell me that fits because _Julius Caesar_ was written after _Hamlet_"

"I have no idea" said Goren opening the bedside drawers and finding a wallet.

"The years I waited to hear you say that Goren…her cards and about eighty in cash in here"

"About a hundred in his but…"

"But what…"

"Looks to be a card missing from here. See where one has been from the stretch on the leather and the marking. If it was a credit one…"

"Possible the killer used that to get Doris here" finished Eames. "That way the address and the rest would check out. You want to finish in here? I'll go look for anything useful in that desk in the living room"

"I'll also work on breaking this gently to Ross" said Goren.

They were almost a further hour at the scene, during which time Hathaway was estimating the death of the woman up to three days after that of Willard. And a sort of grim confirmation of that came with a check to her local precinct in the Bronx. Where according to Eames, it sounded as if little had been done since the husband reported her missing. On the morning of Tuesday 11th when she was not back from an overnight cleaning job.

More accurately one Harry Bunker thought she did. Poor guy was left with a couple of kids and by then had discovered for himself that the name and location of the company Doris said she did occasional work for, was bogus. Once again it fell to those left behind to have to learn uncomfortable facts, Goren concluded when he heard that and went to see what the local canvas had turned up.

And, yet again, one of those _"saw nothing, heard nothing"_ situations were so common in large apartment blocks, where once you shut your door you had little idea of the comings and goings of your neighbours. Not ones who were quiet and respectable like Arthur Willard and the few who knew a little of him, knew only he was a chess player and something of a fisherman. Had a little cabin upstate the daughter was able to confirm the location of and where she and a few acquaintances thought he might have gone, despite the season. And it being unlike him not to say something about what he was doing. Though when you knew Mrs Willard only died four months before, a slight change of habit and behaviour might be expected.

It was perhaps as well Ross was not around when they returned to 1PP. Goren had not worked out how to break the news they had all the hallmarks of another Shakespearean tragedy on the books. Though when CSU found a kitchen knife, which tested positive for blood, he did make the remark to Eames that Hamlet had used a sword.

**Thursday 20****th**** November**

"_**Classy Companions" East 116**__**th**__** Street**_

Mrs Susanne Rowan the proprietor reacted much as you might expect her to. With a degree of guilty nervousness mixed with protestations that she ran a legitimate business that had nothing to do with prostitution. At the same time as denying Chelsea Banks/Doris Bunker ever worked for her. She was also much older than you might expect.

"So when we come back with a warrant for all your records we'll find nothing that shows clients who want a companion for a _'musical show'_ or a _'ride in the park'_" enquired Eames.

She was drawing on some of the euphemisms you learned in vice.

"None of your select group of carefully picked ladies who especially enjoy _'Peking duck'_ or other dishes"

"No idea what you mean Detective…" she glanced at the card. "Detectives Eames"

"Do you suffer from neuralgia Mrs Rowan?" asked Goren. "Only I notice you keep holding the side of your face and turning it to speak to me. I wondered. Whether perhaps you recognised my partner from some years back? And don't want her to recognise you"

Eames got up from her seat and moved around.

"Face is familiar now you mention it Goren. My goodness…I just realised. Its Susan…no don't tell me…Susan Baylor…no Bailey. That's it. You ran a cathouse up in Hunt's Point. Last I saw you, you were heading to Riker's. My, my I see Botox and elocution are on the education programmes there now"

The brief phrase the woman said in reply suggested the manners taught in the women's prison facility were not Emily Post.

"So what do you want?" _"Mrs Rowan"_ added.

"Everything you've got on Mrs Bunker including the details of her last appointment" said Goren.

Fifteen minutes later they were leaving with copies of papers and the eighty-dollar _"introduction fee"_ she had taken from Arthur Willard's credit card plus twenty for an unspecified service they added on. Goren even gave her a receipt. A group of youths seeing their badges, hurried away from the street corner as they returned to the SUV.

"I know what the first two terms were or can work them out Eames, but what's a _'Peking duck'_?" Goren enquired as they got back in.

"Never mind but I wouldn't mind betting you did it a time or two" she muttered starting the engine.

He was left uncertain who _"won"_ that round, as Eames went on to explain her Lieutenant in _Vice _first introduced her to Susan Bailey as _"Splinter Susan"_. She used to work the Fulton Market when she was younger. When fish boxes were made of wood, not plastic. Which gave Goren a clue how old she must really be and he didn't need diagrams to tell him how she got the splinters. Or where.

"The ME's?" his partner asked.

Goren glanced at the clock "Should be ready now. And by the way. _Julius Caesar_ was written before _Hamlet_"

"Knew you'd check Bobby" grinned Eames as the SUV moved away from the lights.

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

Eames was doing some ironing as Jack finally emerged from the room he used as a study after some time on the phone.

"You look more than usually pleased with yourself"

"Shifted a lot of paper will leave more of the weekend free" he sat down on the sofa. "So I'm at your disposal Al"

"Did you call the press office?"

"Excuse me?"

"To tell them to fix a conference? For when you announce Ron Carver as the new Executive ADA?"

He stared at her and she stared back between putting one of her shirts on a hanger.

"I'm starting to think living with a Detective is not such as smart idea. Unless it's to get my shirts ironed of course"

"You can do them yourself dear" she smiled. "Everything's ready for you"

"And what are you going to do?" he growled

"Work out what the heck you do to manage to lose so many buttons"

"There's some in that little dish where I put my pocket change" McCoy called after her.

Eames stuck her head back round the door "Good I'll show you how to use a needle and thread then"

"You were right by the way" he said going to the ironing board. "About why Ron called this evening"

"Hmm. Then we both have reason to celebrate. Scotch or an early night?"

"No contest Al. No contest" McCoy winked at her.

_**To be continued…**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Friday 21****st**** November**

_**St. Luke's Place, Greenwich**_

Goren woke with a start as Caro flung herself out of bed and fled the room. Next thing he was conscious of was the noise of her throwing up in the bathroom. The sound of her retching and his impossible to reconcile sense of guilt, mixed with one of strange relief. It was normal, to be expected and perhaps a sign. That in these early weeks, when there was so little else to go on, things were progressing as they should.

He got up, put her bathrobe to warm on the heater and got the bathroom door more or less shut on him and told to _"go away"._ So he did for a short time, using the cloakroom in the basement and curing the feelings of helplessness and uselessness he had better get used to, by filling the kettle. And getting out on a kitchen counter anything edible or liquid that might help and Caro might want.

Then got back to the hallway upstairs to wait. In time for her to emerge looking dreadful and miserable. To wrap her in the warm robe and in his arms.

"I know I just imagined that" she said, her voice muffled against his body

"Of course you did Caro"

What made no sense was that twenty minutes later she looked absolutely fine, like nothing ever happened and later left for work, with him the one going to be a little late thanks to all the irritating _"hovering"_ and _"fussing"_ over her he had done. And Caro taking unfair advantage of him. To jump in the shower ahead of him.

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Eames glanced up as Goren came in a little late and having missed a patch on his right jaw with the razor that morning.

"Hi" she said "Full PM and labs came in on Willard and Doris"

"Morning"

He picked up Dr Roger's report seeing her with the one from CSU open and went round to his desk. Dropping into the top, right drawer a large and fairly well thumbed volume Eames could guess the title of. For a moment or two they scanned in silence as his partner ate a muffin and sipped coffee.

Liz Rogers was now able to confirm neither victim had alcohol or drugs, legal or otherwise, in their system. Doris Bunker had been strangled but not to death as she was confirming drowning as cause. It made the scenario he and Eames had speculated quite possible. That she was throttled to unconsciousness possibly stripped at that point and then placed in the tub to finish her off. And if it really was a recreation of elements of _"Hamlet"_ the young woman had to drown, not be throttled to death.

"They say anything about her clothes?" he asked "About contact with water?"

Eames flipped back a page. "None. They did a test with an identical dress. Wet the skirt lining. Without an iron it wrinkled up. Hers was either ironed or dry cleaned recently or never went in the water. And listen to this Goren. CSU has confirmed the traces of that sticky material Liz found on Arthur's neck as consistent with some sort of adhesive tape"

"Fits with signs of bruising on the wrists and ankles and…and soft white fibres Dr Rogers found in his windpipe. Anything about greasepaint on her?"

"Why just her Goren?" his partner frowned.

He sat chin in hand and flipping back to his notes "I was thinking what Splinter Susan said…how it was part-time and occasional work for Doris. No…nothing slightly kinky…yeah here we are…the caller said he was an older black man wanted straight sex with a _"nice"_ girl"

"I see what you mean. If the door was opened by a young man or a white one, she might have hesitated before stepping in. Asked to see Mr Willard first. Make up might convince her and might have transferred during a struggle. Once she was through the door…we know what happened"

Eames threw away her take out bag and then said, "Remind me. Did the caller ask for an African American girl?"

"Uhuh. Trouble is the amount of decomp makes it impossible for Rogers to say how long he might have been tied up before he was killed. To assess dehydration for example. The amount of bruising where he struggled suggests it was not just a short while. While the killer found the kitchen knife. Long enough for him to have doubly soiled his pants though"

"Why wait Bobby? Why not just kill him right away? Make the cut in the curtain and put him behind it. Then Monday morning make the call to the agency, always assuming Susan told the truth on the timing of that" Eames mused. "Unless the killer was worried about the smell of decomp?"

"This weather the answer would have been to switch off the heating. That would slow it down in a cold apartment" Goren shrugged. "No danger then of Doris smelling anything strange when she arrived. Or the neighbours. Possible Willard was forced to make the call for the girl I suppose"

"The call to the agency was not made from the apartment by the way, so that doesn't seem likely and the only thing not accounted for are his regular spectacles. Why take them away?"

Goren doodled a moment. "It's almost like there could have been three or four phases to this crime. Over three or four days. The last one being to stage Arthur and then leave the heating full on. Had his son not been so concerned, by the weekend the smell would have been detectible out in the hall"

"Perhaps the killer has a regular job he had to fit around homicide?" said Eames. "Most do. So what do you want to do next?"

"Go play a game of chess Eames"

_**Belvedere Castle, Central Park.**_

Within Central Park there were several places you could find a group of people playing chess almost any season, any day of the year. Some of them discreet games for money and more than one local who stopped to watch and especially unwary tourists, had found themselves the unwitting _"victim"_ of a hustle. Sometimes worked by one or more often, two people.

It worked much the same as the poolroom scam. You made out you were a poor player, lost money to your _"buddy"_ and then wiped the board with the guy thought he was onto an easy fifty. The danger of course, was that the _"target"_ you lured to the table, turned out to be better than you.

As they drove up there mid morning on a fine sunny day, Goren did not tell Eames his friend Lewis, something of a chess prodigy, had done that a few times when they were at college together at venues all over the city. Once or twice with his help for a share of the take. They knew from family and friends they contacted, that Arthur Willard was semi-regular in the Park, especially since his retirement. With a group of older men who met on the Castle terraces.

And that when he collected his paper on Friday 7th from his local store, he had said he was heading for the Park. It was the last certain sighting of him and they hoped that on the same day of the week, they might find people there who could confirm if he ever made it to there.

None of the players hurried or drifted away when they realised the two of them were cops. Indeed, they were mainly a group of seniors including a former Park Ranger, a Rabbi and an ex-manager from Bloomingdale's. Most of them knew Arthur and were able, after some animated discussion; to be sure he was there that morning.

Goren found himself playing the Rabbi as the story came out.

"What time did he leave?" asked Eames her breath wisping in the air and wondering whether it was good for their health for these elderly men to sit around in the cold.

"About noon" replied one. "His usual time. We often walk to the subway together but that day I was meeting my grandson for lunch. Perhaps if I had not been Arthur would…"

"It's okay Mr Neilson" she said kindly. "I don't think it would have made a difference. Was anything unusual about that day?"

"No"

"Yes dere vas" said Rabbi Vronsky in his still marked Russian accent. "Artur left his glasses behind"

He took one of Goren's bishops and said "Dey are old men. Memory not so gut"

"That's right" said the guy with the black cane "Arthur was blind as a bat without them"

"We understood that from his family" said Goren working out how to lose fairly quickly but not too obviously.

"So why or how could he go without them?" puzzled Eames

"It was a sunny day. Like this" said Neilson "He had tinted glasses. With his prescription. He had that thing. You know with light?"

"Photophobia?"

"That's it Detective Goren. He switched them over and then when he left he forgot the case with the regular ones in. It was the Rebbe here realised because he almost sat on them and we said…"

"Enough already" snorted the Rabbi. "Zey need to know about the blond man…zat vas a foolish move Officer. I hope you are not letting me vin"

"No Rebbe" Goren lied.

"I think he could still have you Jacob unless…"

"The blond man?" said Eames firmly to focus attention.

"Young man" said Neilson. "Was up here taking pictures of the Park. When we realised Arthur left his glasses he offered to go after him. Hand them back"

"Did you see him with Arthur?"

"Yes" said Neilson "I was going to the bathroom. Over the side here I saw him catch up to Arthur down below. I think he was a tourist. Had a book… a guide book and Arthur was pointing…like showing him the direction he needed"

"And then they parted company?"

Neilson shrugged "Don't know. My age when I need to go, I have to go young lady"

Fifteen minutes later Goren had played to a stalemate and Eames had a fairly good description of the blond man and a date for later. When Neilson and Goodson, the former soft furnishings manager, would _"enjoy"_ a trip to 1PP to work with a sketch artist.

As they returned to the SUV, Goren turned to her.

"Willard was a fairly fit man. The Park is quite busy with people. The blond man could not have abducted him here Eames. Got him against his will all the way back to Greenwich. Not without an accomplice and possibly a vehicle. Or without attracting attention"

"I know" said Eames. "And he may be what he seemed to be. But while you were playing Goren, I was thinking. How older people, maybe rather lonely ones might say things to a nice stranger shows interest or does them a kindness"

"Enough to discover he was going home, lived alone, was going to be alone?"

"Like you said there's too few errors and signs of planning for these to be random or impulse crimes and…"

He glanced at her "And what?"

"And how do you fancy a taco for lunch?"

_**To be continued…**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Friday 21****st**** November**

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Captain Daniel Ross managed not to roll his eyes and, late on a Friday afternoon, grabbed a spare chair and straddled it to sit beside the two desks.

"Just run that by me again will you Alex?"

"We want to ask all precincts and squads across the city to run a check on their homicides, solved and unsolved for the last six months. To see if they fit the pattern for these two"

"The pattern being one where one or more elements fit a play by Shakespeare" he was looking at Goren when he said that. "And you think they'll recognise them?"

"We'll give them some guidance" Bobby shrugged. "Like on method? No one is shot with a gun so it's stabbings and poisonings mainly. Though I would include drug overdoses in that as the modern day equivalent and one or two other more unique examples. Though in some of the plays the deaths are not actually shown such as…"

Ross waved his hand. "I get it. Method. And?"

"Names and locations" said Eames. "Julius is pretty obvious but with Willard it was the name of the street"

"How many _Macbeth's_ are there in the New York phone book and if you answer that Goren I'll…I'll…and you don't think this could be a Greenwich thing? Both occurred there"

Goren had not checked on _Macbeth's_ or _Macduff's_ but he was sure there was a character called _Ross _in that play.

"We did check the sixth precinct Captain" he said quietly. "Nothing matched"

"But it was the time it took us to go through all the original reports. The data base only captures certain basic fields can be searched against and would mean us putting in hundreds of variables" said Eames. "This will be quicker"

Ross loosened his tie. "I will agree the trouble gone to in these cases indicates something more than random killings. Like the number of wounds on the first victim. And with fifty plays…"

"Thirty-seven" said Goren automatically and without thinking. "Though about half were comedies so…so…"

He trailed off seeing Ross' face. A mixture of mild annoyance at his contradiction and Ross thinking, not just being obstructive or dismissive. He might _"ride"_ him especially at times, but the Captain kept pretty much up to date with their reports. Would know they were no closer to motives and work out such a trawl might eliminate or confirm two possibilities.

That they really might have a serial killer on their hands and that if there were others fit this pattern, that it was not just seniors, specifically males who were the victims. Past repeat killers often got away with it as long as they did, especially ones who varied _"means"_ or other factors, because it was so long before the underlying theme or pattern was recognised. And whilst additional victims were not desirable, the primary one turning out to be young and female would eliminate _"older men"_ as being targeted for some reason.

Eames and Goren had been in total agreement that Arthur Willard because he lived on the corner of _"Horatio"_ was the primary target in that instance. Poor Doris Bunker was almost a prop. An extra. Recruited because of her age and ethnicity to arrange an _"Ophelia"_ to Willard's _"Polonius"_ and because she was in a profession made her easy to get to the location. Not like grabbing any young black woman off the street or needing to trick or stalk her for too long.

"Okay" said Ross. "Send it out under my name. If nothing else it will help us focus. And include State and New Jersey. Might as well cover all the bases"

"And the Feds?"

"Why not Bobby. You still have that contact there?"

"Yes sir"

"Go to it then" he stood up. "Coming for a drink later?"

"Yes" said Eames

"Not this week" replied Goren.

He turned to his terminal and began to click for the action memo format.

**Saturday 22****nd**** November**

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

Still in her bathrobe, Eames yawned as she emptied the dishwasher waiting for the coffee to finish making. Then idly flicked on the TV. It was the local news report.

"…_and our sources say that the District Attorney, Jack McCoy may be planning to break with tradition by making an appointment from outside his office. And now over to Ken for assessment of the Giant's chances tomorrow"_

She turned it off. Thinking someone wasted no time after Jack broke the news to the senior staff yesterday none of them were getting the job. She had no idea what news media paid for that sort of tip but if it were one of them, maybe it would be some consolation.

"Hungyaah" McCoy yawned and stretched coming through the door.

"You made the news"

"Huh? What for this time?"

"Best dressed man in New York" Eames replied thinking few men looked at their best in old t-shirt and shorts.

And wondering when would be the best time to give Jack the bad news called _"Christmas Shopping"_

_**Special Victim's Unit (Manhattan)**_

Finn Tutuola read the memo from Major Case down at 1PP and taking in, though it was under Captain Ross' name, it was really an enquiry from Bobby and Alex. An unusual one and good luck to them with that.

But it was re-reading the part about taking _"drug overdose"_ as a contemporary version of medieval or ancient poisonings made him think. Not to go back to his list of old cases, but one of those he was working right now.

Tutuola switched to the net and typed in a name that stuck in his mind because initially it had been spelled differently and wrongly, when he and Benson were assigned to work it. Ten minutes later he knew a great deal more about a certain play than he ever did.

Had an _"itch"_ about that he knew was in part because he and Liv had a different _"take"_. It was not a perfect fit but the memo said not to expect that and some elements did work. He sipped coffee thinking how a stranger could have achieved the same outcome as their current suspect.

There was only one way came to mind and being Sunday tomorrow there was a chance of checking that out. An hour or so extra off the clock would not hurt and he could run it by Benson on Monday.

**Sunday 23****rd**** November**

**_Barnes and Noble, Fifth Avenue_**

Goren felt as if he had achieved a minor victory as they turned into the section where _the "baby books"_ were. Though it had been at something of a price more in terms of time and shoe leather than actual cash, as he and Caro had several shopping bags between them.

As well for the Reece family system of setting a strict cash limit on gift spending and organising things between the various adults for the children. And he would not disagree with the other thing Caro did. Check out with maternity at _Bellevue _the titles they would recommend.

He got quite a shock seeing how many different ones there were on the shelves. They had just collected the three they were looking for, when his cell phone rang. Hard to say who gave him the worst look. The heavily pregnant lady, the shifty looking man you wondered what he was actually doing or Caro.

"Sorry" he said softly to her and finding an out of the way corner near the stairs to take the call.

It was and hence leaving the thing on, from Clay Walsh, a contact he had in the BSU at Quantico. One he had run a few ideas by on Friday evening. And because Walsh was in the office today he could check their database.

Twenty minutes later, Clayton had confirmed there was nothing similar outstanding on the FBI's case files and he and Caro had reached an amicable agreement on what seemed the best book to get. And they were in something of a long line to pay.

That was when she suddenly grabbed the book off the top of the small pile included items for several of the kids and his cousin Alan.

"Fancy seeing you here" said Jack McCoy also laden with bags.

"It's a bookshop" shrugged Eames. "Where else would Bobby be? Hi Caro"

"Hi Alex. Jack?" said Caro. "If I let him? Asleep on the sofa but claiming he's watching football"

"Or got the flu and should really stay home so he's okay for work tomorrow?"

"Thanks Alex" said Goren. "I never thought of that one"

"Forget it Bobby" said McCoy. "Women have an instant cure for sudden flu. It's usually something worse than what they planned for you to do in the first place"

By the time they reached the head of the line, Alex and Jack had gone off towards _"cookery"_ and the book they did not want them to see had re-appeared from behind Caro's back. They had not disagreed on the decision to say nothing about the baby for the time being. The first scan they were booked in for would not identify all possible problems. There was nothing really could do that in advance for you. But it was a significant point they felt they wanted to clear before the breaking the news to anyone.

And him turning into a worrywart would not change anything either.

_**To be continued…**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Monday 24****th**** November**

_**The Male Locker Room, Floor 11, 1PP**_

As he washed his hands, Goren had to award the latest round to _Rank Xerox_ and whoever designed those infernal machines. So it was impossible, for him anyway, to deal with a paper jam without getting his hands dirty.

"Hi Mike" he said turning from the basin as Logan came in from somewhere in his topcoat.

And made quickly for the urinal.

"Giants played a good game yesterday"

"Yeah" Goren pulled out paper towels. "Bit scary in the fourth quarter though. Hey Mike? Did you know a guy called Terry Cagney over in Richmond?"

His time on Staten Island was sometimes a sore point for Logan, who considered it more his personal and professional _Alcatraz._

"Jimmy? Yeah. Sure. Good man. Why?"

"Just got a message from him. Thinks maybe a case of his could turn out to be linked to the two Eames and I are dealing with"

"Your dramatic crime spree" mocked Logan gently as he wriggled and got done. "Cagney is a good guy. Very diligent. Not as smart as you of course but if…"

"Thanks"

His zipper closed Logan turned around as Goren left in a hurry. He shook his head in mild bemusement and then at the basins had a horrible thought.

"_Nah not even Ross could ever be that mean to me"_ Mike thought as he began to wash up.

Unaware that out in the hall, Goren was taking chance to call home on his cell. And getting no reply was slightly relieved. It told him Caro was over the bad morning sickness she got earlier and meant she had called _Bellevue _to say she would be a little late. And he had mentally crossed dry crackers off the list of things the book said might help. She just threw those up in the kitchen sink.

_**First Methodist Church, Rockland Avenue, Staten Island**_

With Terry _"Jimmy"_ Cagney unable to meet them for a while, Goren and Eames got out of the SUV and hurried up the path to the porch. It was here or on his way to his home that Edward Rollins claimed to be. At the time his wife was murdered on Tuesday 14th October.

As Goren unzipped his folder Eames scanned the notices in the cases.

"Here you go" she tapped the glass front. "List of the deacons with their names and addresses. Including Ed Rollins"

"Can you see the meeting listed?" Goren checked "Umm…they called it a _ministry meeting_"

"Yep. Plain as day. All of them for the second half of the year. Looks to be the second Tuesday each month" Eames turned to him. "And an easily available public fact I could check. Once I knew where Rollins worshipped and he was a deacon"

"They did door to door mission work according to Cagney. No secret and I got the impression it was one reason he doubted Rollins was guilty"

"Being something in the church you mean?" snorted Eames "More likely to put him top of my list of suspects"

Goren shook his head at her slight cynicism; though it was true down the years they had come across more than one religious type turned out to be _"guilty as sin"._ He followed Eames out into the driving, sleety rain glad of the watch cap covering his ears.

**SVU, Manhattan**

John Munch said nothing and kept his head down as Olivia Benson and Finn Tutuola began to raise their voices.

"He had sex with her" she gestured.

"And he admitted that. He was her damn boyfriend" Finn snapped. "He hardly needed to dope her for that now did he Liv?"

"Maybe he thought she needed that to loosen up or so she would do things he wanted!"

"Oh give me strength" barked an exasperated Tutuola. "Not every man thinks like that. Or maybe it's just you"

"And what the hell that does that mean?" Benson close to yelled.

"Whatever you want it to. Same as this case. And you are forgetting what these two witnesses said? That changes the situation or are you just going to ignore that because…"

The door at the end of the room burst open.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Dan Cragen did yell and with a gesture to his office. "I could hardly hear myself think for the two of you. And I expect the Chief of D's could hear it too"

"Ask her" snapped Finn snatching a folder from his desk. "I have a meeting with a witness and a sketch artist"

"Well?" asked Cragen of a red faced with annoyance Benson.

And beginning to think his wife might be right. He had enough of some of the goings on in this Squad. Or certain of them in particular. Something Elliot Stabler's not unexpected transfer request form, handed to him earlier, was not going to solve completely. Trouble was Benson put hers in two days ago. Cragen's problem now was deciding which of them he was going to let go.

_**Forest Hills Road, Staten Island**_

"The café on West Fifty Third is leased by Jemma, the older daughter and a friend from college" said Detective Cagney unlocking the front door of the house. "So when he got home between about nine forty-five and ten, Ed Rollins assumed Marylyn might have turned in early. Said the travel and working there was taking it out of his wife"

"Why was she suddenly doing shifts there?" asked Eames.

They stood for a moment in the hallway of the middle class family residence that felt very cold with no heating on. It was still, but only just, in the hands of NYPD as a crime scene and she could sense Goren beside her itching to start looking. Maybe to find something not seen as significant at the time.

"Jemma is six months pregnant, seven now I guess and with a toddler as well, Marylyn was helping out. Recruiting staff up there wasn't the problem Jemma told us. Plenty of _'resting'_ theatrical types available. Trouble was, soon as they got a part in a show they would not turn up. Leave her and her business partner in the lurch. She has young kids too"

That made sense. _"Café Othello"_ was in the heart of the theatre district and was the only reason Mrs Rollins, normally a fifty four year old homemaker and community volunteer was going to Manhattan four days a week.

"So could you walk us through?" asked Goren.

"Sure" said the younger black man. "Ed says he hung his coat in the hall here and came right through"

Cagney opened the door to a kitchen/family room. "Everything was normal in here as he got some coffee and went to switch on the TV. That's when he says he heard a noise out back"

They went to the glass doors to look down the neat back yard to the fence at the far end.

"Time he opened the drapes, Ed says he just got the impression someone went over the fence"

Goren read something in his folder. "Didn't think to check or go out because that backs onto the park and kids have climbed over before to retrieve a ball"

"Except that time of night it must have been dark" said Eames "For kids to be playing over there"

Rollins nodded. "Yes and that's one of the things looked at another way made his story suspicious. The local kids to here are not gun toting hoodlums he might have been afraid of"

"So you might argue any other person would have gone out to check, see it wasn't vandalism or kids climbed over to mess around" mused Eames. "And he didn't go out because it never happened. He just said that to back up his intruder story"

"Yes" said Rollins. "It gets to ten forty five and Ed goes upstairs. To check if Marylyn was asleep and if not to make her a hot drink. That's when he finds her dead on the bed"

"Smothered with a pillow like Othello did to Desdemona" said Goren softly as they headed for the stairs.

In the master bedroom there was only one obvious thing missing. The matching porcelain bedside lamp for the one still there. That had been found smashed on the floor. The assumption being, since it contained the victim's prints, she had grabbed that to hit her attacker. If so, if left no trace of them on it.

"When he finds Marilyn, Rollins says he attempted CPR. Had been trained in _First Aid_ by the bank he worked for. And some bruising on her chest might be consistent with panicked compressions" said Rollins.

"And that on her arms consistent with someone kneeling on them" said Eames recalling snippets of the ME's report Goren had read aloud on the way over to the island.

"Stops any risk of skin or hair under the nails if they struggle"

Cagney glanced at Goren for that remark.

"Then of course there is the fact he either lied or was genuinely confused when we first interviewed him. About dinner that night. Didn't help with time of death given the stomach contents"

"Can't always be accurate" said Goren "People digest at different rates. Four hours for food to clear the stomach is only an average"

Eames paced across the room "Let me get this straight. Rollins said when he came home late and in a rush to get to his meeting, his wife already ate?"

"That's what he said when he described the events of the evening" said the Staten detective "Which would have been around six. But when the ME found partially digested food and put that with the rest, she pushed the time of death after ten. When Ed was home. Only later did he say that was an assumption, not something he knew for fact"

"It's a thin calculation anyway" said Eames. "The defence should make chopped liver…excuse the pun…of anything more precise than an hour. Even when the body was found fresh"

"He was unlucky" said Goren checking his folder for the papers Rollins had mailed over. "That this witness, Mrs Hollander, put her alive at seven thirty when she telephoned, reports Marilyn saying she just ate"

"And there were the clothes" said Rollins. "The washer finished soon after I arrived at eleven fifteen but there's no telling how long it ran for. It could have been a short cycle when Ed shoved in things like his pants might have picked up fibres from the fluffy robe she was wearing. After he killed her"

Eames peered round Goren's shoulder. "He was either very smart to think of that or again unlucky. To be wearing at the meeting an identical pair of pants to some in the washer. Let that be a lesson to you Bobby. Never own two items the same"

"I buy my socks in packs of three pairs" he muttered. "Saves the trouble of matching them. Terry? Do you have a list of what was in that washer?"

"Uhuh. Was all taken for forensic"

He opened his file at the page and Goren ran his finger down it. Then tapped it. At one item.

"Did you ever account for or match this?"

"No we didn't. You think…?"

When Cagney turned Goren was opening drawers and then pulled out a neat pile of men's handkerchiefs he began to spread out. They were all either plain white or other single colour shades.

Eames looked at him "So why was one in the washer embroidered with a _'C'_ Goren?"

"Ed Rollins has no second initial" said Cagney quickly.

"It's the other pointer to the play" said Goren pacing the room. "There had to be a second…in _Othello_ he smothers his wife because he thinks she's having an affair…"

"So it was left to look like motive?" said Eames. "Marylyn was having an affair with Chuck or Chris?"

"Could be. It's a handkerchief used to trick Othello into thinking Desdemona is unfaithful. With a man called Cassio" he turned to Cagney.

"I think we need to speak to the DA and see if we can find some other explanation for that handkerchief being there. If not, it looks more like the killer might have left it"

_**To be continued…**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Monday 24****th**** November**

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich Village**_

"What's that?" Caroline Reece was wrinkling her nose before he had barely set the steaming cup on the table beside her.

"Ginger tea"

"But I hate flavoured tea Rob you know…"

She trailed off at the look on his face and said quietly "Thank you"

Knowing exactly why he got it, where he probably read about it and not needing to be a clinical psychologist to know the best thing for Rob, if not her, was just to drink it. Even if it made her throw up before she went to bed instead of in the morning.

The same as she had quit working soon as he said something earlier and sat with her feet up most of the evening. In truth, she was more tired than she might have been a few weeks ago and she could not ignore that, any more than she could one or two other things. Like that red skirt she'd always had to be at her lowest regular weight range to fit in, whose waist button went _"no-where near"_ this morning.

Much as he might wish he could be the one to put up with the discomforts and inconveniences, Rob could not have this baby for them. And she had a kind of obligation to him. To re-assure him, concede a little to his anxieties and understand his needs in the matter. The sort she rather expected would be the same even if he was twenty-five years younger, to be embarking on this adventure for the first time.

Caro reached for the tea as he sat down and rested her feet on his thigh.

"Don't try hiding that paint colour chart Caro" he said. "Just tell me what we decided"

She smiled "We didn't yet…oh look it's Jack and Ron on the TV!"

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

"God I look old…switch over Al"

"You are old Jack" she muttered "But you look fine. So does Ron, but a red tie would have been better with that suit you know"

"So why didn't you tell me that this morning?" he growled

Eames shrugged "Thought you people all had media and image consultants these days"

"You know I don't"

"At least try to look happy McCoy. You got what you wanted and being serious I did not hear a single word of negative comment once the news broke at 1PP. Ron's well liked and thought of by a lot of cops. One's with brains anyway"

"I'll remember that when I'm putting my stab vest on to go to the office in the morning"

"That bad huh?"

"Not really" McCoy picked up his coffee. "Eric and Teresa knew they were outsiders and Sid Blalock is just glad if it's not him, it's not Pat either. She's the one with her McCann dynasty drawers in a bunch"

She smiled at that image. The McCann family, whose name she still used after her marriage, had enjoyed being movers and shakers in all aspects of New York civic life for about five generations. And decided, aside from the fact they tried to keep work and home separate, not to tell Jack Pat's knickers were probably more twisted by the time she left the DA's office tonight.

Or would be come morning, when she read the observations Goren deliberately put his name to with Terry Cagney. Whether that would be enough to get poor Ed Rollins off the remand wing at Riker's who could say, but then most cops would rather get it right than just get _"anyone"._ Whether her impatience to get Rollins into the system as quickly as possible for the death of his wife had anything to do with her brother being Borough President on Staten Island, only Pat McCann could say.

**Tuesday 25****th**** November**

_**Visiting Officer's Room, Major Case Squad**_

Danny Ross had come into the room soon after Finn Tutuola turned up to see them with an SVU case file and for the second time in two days was hearing how they might have another _"Shakespeare Killer"_ victim on their hands. This time there wasn't anyone in custody for it, though it had come close.

The victim, an ER nurse called Moira Regan, had been found dead by her roommate and separated sister Aileen Young, the evening of Sunday 16th November. When she returned from her job as an air stewardess having done a shift took her to Toronto and back.

Tutuola took from the file the original despatch slip he had been handed as he started the night shift.

"As you can see we got the name given to us with the more regular spelling of _Reagan._ Only when we got to East Sixth Street did we realise it was different"

"Cause of death was inhalation of vomit" said Ross scanning the autopsy report.

"With that much GHB in her system no surprise Captain" said Finn with a glance at Goren.

Ross knew they had been partners in Narco for some time, so knew probably better than any of them the majority of deaths where GHB or _"liquid ecstasy"_ played a part were of the accidental kind. People having fatal traffic accidents and inhaling their own vomit under its influence was as common as with those badly drunk and dying as a consequence.

"At first" he said. "And with her positive for semen, we wondered date rape except very soon it became clear the boyfriend, this Doctor Ravi Singh was not attempting to deny they had sex when she came home from Bellevue that morning"

Tutuola took them through events on which the statements of Singh, an intern in ophthalmology, and the sister were in agreement. They were up and getting ready for the day when Moira came in from night shift, with a take out coffee from a 24 hour place nearby. That was on the counter in the kitchen, where either of them might have laced it without Moira knowing and the residue had tested positive.

"Singh says she was kind of frisky for someone just in from night shift" said Finn "And soon as Aileen left for La Guardia he says they got down and dirty over the kitchen table. But insists she was alive and on her way to bed with the still capped coffee when he left. Got to the hospital on time for his shift. He never suspected she was drunk or showing the first signs of ingesting GHB or anything else"

"But he was your and Benson's primary suspect because of that?" asked Eames.

Tutuola rubbed his right eyelid and blinked like he had something in it before he spoke again. That was a signal to the one person in the room would understand it. Goren. With whom he had developed several to get them through dangerous undercover operations where they often had to pretend not to know each other. It was the one for _"careful I'm in trouble here"._

"Until we could find no motive for him to do it. No fights, no gain for him and he volunteered to take a lie detector test. His father, who is a surgeon at Mount Sinai, even offered to pay for it. That left the sister as the only one with access to the coffee cup and again with no motive we could find"

"Then you got our memo" said Goren.

"Uhuh. I don't pretend to know literature like you man, but there was something about that name. Any fool can type five letters in a search engine and pretty soon find a summary of _King Lear_"

"I thought there were three sisters in that?" said Ross.

"Doesn't matter" replied Goren "Fact is it was one of her sisters, Goneril I think, who poisoned Regan"

"It was" said Finn "And Singh was only at Moira's that weekend because the roster was switched around last minute. Otherwise the sister Aileen would have been the prime suspect. So Sunday morning I went back to the coffee shop. We checked that out before of course and the hospitals and clinics in case we had a crazy server lacing customer's drinks. But Sunday morning, same rough time as Moira must have been there, I found these two witnesses. Regular clubbers but they were sober enough and certain what they saw"

Their statements were more or less identical. Sat near the window they saw the nurse leave and an early morning jogger _"run into her"_ spilling the coffee on the sidewalk. He came in with her to order two, including a replacement. One of the witnesses was positive it was he tipped sugar into the container for the nurse at the stand with that, chocolate shakers and the rest on. And that she was distracted from maybe seeing exactly what he did by a young black man asked her for change for the pay phone.

"The description for him is not much" said Tutuola sliding it over the table. "His back was to them. But they got a pretty good look to the white guy"

"Shoot" said Eames looking at the photofit. "Apart from the tan and the hat being different, this could be our guy from the park"

The two pictures sat on the table showing men maybe late twenties, blond, slim faced and wearing pale blue quilted/ski jackets.

"Think the two guys worked it together?" asked Ross

Tutuola shrugged and reached for his own coffee "Could just be just a co-incidence but the cup only turned up clear prints of the server, the sister who says she moved it out of her way in the kitchen and Dr Singh. Didn't want it to spill on the table when they were banging each other"

He took a sip and then pulled a face "This doesn't have sugar in Bob"

"I should go get it yourself" his former partner shrugged.

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

There might be a little remaining scepticism in some minds, but neither Ross nor Dick Nichols, the Chief of Detectives, had been in doubt. They could not wait on this. Especially when they discovered the four other Regan's listed in the New York directory were Moira's father, her brother, a priest up in the Bronx and an elderly man recently admitted to a nursing home and no longer living at the Queens address.

It was very much looking like they had a serial killer on their hands who might be _"escalating"_ in terms of the frequency. Though Goren was not necessarily agreeing on that. He might have spent months identifying victims, planning and stalking them and just now had chance to carry out the crimes. For some reason or change in his own life and perhaps some _"crisis"_ in it spurred him to act. But a composite face was going to the TV stations and the press, with the clear advice from him _"ski jacket man"_ must be presented as a witness not a suspect.

For one thing it encouraged people to call in and say it might be their nice neighbour and for another, that type of killer might just be bold enough to come forward himself. Would not be the first time it happened.

"You should go home and pack" said Eames with a glance over the desks at him.

"I guess but…"

"But nothing Bobby" she said kindly. "You are due in Virginia for Thanksgiving. And you are not to think of cancelling because of this"

Goren knew of course she and the others would cope. Alex was the one waiting to become a Lieutenant after all and there was a fine line and always had been. Between not feeling he was dumping on his partner and a level of consideration she might see as patronising her.

"Okay" he began to gather his things.

She watched him a moment before her phone rang. It was Finn up at Bellevue where he was showing the composite to other ER staff in case _"ski jacket"_ was someone might have met Moira Regan by chance as a patient. Eames gave him a little wave as he left.

Goren with little or no family had done more than his share over the holidays in the past. Often to let her be with her own. In fact, this was the first since they were partnered he had not worked Thanksgiving or the days around it. He had more than paid his dues and had family again now.

Listening to what Finn had to say, she did wonder when and if, Bobby and Caro would make that official and legal. And maybe when she'd get to be _"Auntie Alex"_ to a little Goren.

_**To be continued…**_


	14. Chapter 14

**Wednesday 26****th**** November**

_**The Palmetto Service (between Philadelphia and Baltimore)**_

It was the first time they ever seriously discussed names and they had both agreed they did not want to know the sex of the baby until it arrived. Neither was especially keen on using family names like those of parents and Goren knew even now he would be very ambivalent about using his father's name. Would get plenty of suggestions anyway once people knew.

He was just glad Caro was drinking that ginger tea without too much protest and not suggesting it was sheer co-incidence she had not suffered morning sickness for the last two days. It was to be hoped it held off or was not too bad for the next three. At George and Eileen's and with the house fairly full, it might be hard to hide and the cat would be out of the bag.

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Logan walked back into the office from the interview room.

"Mad a box of frogs as my old Irish granny would have said" he announced to Eames sitting down in Goren's seat.

He had just spent twenty minutes with a young man arrived in the lobby saying he was _"ski jacket man"_ and who superficially fit the description.

"Claims he was a witness to the killing of JFK, which since he's only twenty five years old I decided it was unlikely"

Eames smiled "What did you do with him?"

"Gave him coffee and a doughnut and while he was eating them called a social worker at the group home where he lives" replied Mike. "Or should I say the secret location NASA facility. They bumped off John Fitzgerald for making them put a man on the moon"

"They wanted to go to Mars?"

"No. Jupiter. Good thing a few of the homes stitch the name and address in some of their clothes. So what did you get? Someone to confess they really shot JR?"

"Not yet but Finn and Liv eliminated the possible from the hospital that Moira Regan treated. Stone cold alibied for the Sunday morning and what we can be sure of as times on some of the others. One possible we got a name for, I'm off to see with Jose very soon"

"Just go carefully then Alex" said Logan as he stood up. "No telling what this guy might do and Jose is a lot smaller to duck behind than Bobby"

"You're a dead man Logan" Eames muttered.

"Just kill me with luuurve" he grinned as he strolled away.

"Your age that's very possible" she retorted.

**Thursday 27****th**** November (Thanksgiving)**

_**Port Royal, Nr Fredericksburg, Virginia**_

The Reece family breakfast table was mildly chaotic that morning as Goren and George Reece, a former Vice Admiral, shared short order cook duties. He heard Caro telling her mother it must be the air of the Rappahannock shoreline gave her the _"glow"_ she had today. Though he suspected Eileen might well guess what they did that extra time they got in bed that morning. But using the physical side effects of _"his baby"_ to justify her indecent assault of him was mean.

Caro only used that phrase when it suited her and as he responded to little Amy's request for toast, he would have to concede he was a willing _"victim"_ in the end. A victim of his own weak will and a fundamental design fault in the male anatomy made it hypersensitive to certain things. Though as Mike Reece cut up Daniel's egg for him, Goren supposed he should really start to worry the day his ceased to be like that.

_**The Eames Family Home, New Jersey**_

"…and he turned out to be just back from Iraq hence the tan so…"

"Hold fire a minute Ally" said her Dad "Just going to see if Jack is ready for another beer"

Eames sighed. _What was the point of him asking about the case if he was then going to ignore her in favour of McCoy's alcohol intake?_ Something he admitted himself he had probably cut down on since they got together last winter. So he would probably say no anyway.

She returned to peeling potatoes wondering if she should have just sent Jack and stayed home or gone to work. Damned man had even _"won"_ her mother round was the most sceptical at first about him. Was in the parlour now cooing over the latest pictures of Dawn. And somehow managing to ignore the fact Jack was a grandfather, closer to Mom herself in age than she was to him and yet, still treating him at times like a kid of ten.

More weird was how Jack seemed to take to that so well and he was not so stupid as to not know how dubious Mom had been about him and all the reasons why. They say you can't teach an old dog, new tricks and taking a sip of her own beer Eames smiled. Remembering last night and knowing why that was. They knew them all. Or least McCoy seemed to.

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Mike Logan was one of only four of them in the office and at that moment alone, while two of the others had a late lunch and he guessed Helen Baxter might be across the hall. With her buddy from the Academy, who was in Traffic.

He had just completed the slight backlog of paperwork he aimed to and was reaching for _"Sports Illustrated"_ when his phone rang.

"Major Case. Mike Logan"

"_Mike its Dick"_

Logan resisted the temptation to make an automatic and humorous response to that. Nichols was not known for his sense of humour at any time. _And surely the SOB was not calling just to see if he got an answer?_ Was sitting up in Westchester County ringing every precinct and squad to make sure someone came to work today.

"Happy Thanksgiving sir"

"_Huh…yes…anyway that's not what…had a call ten minutes ago from Commander Lessiter. A woman's been reported missing in Bergen Beach. Probably nothing but I said we would offer any help to a young Lieutenant Estrada is in charge there today"_

"Really sir" Mike's eyes rolled. He knew Lessiter was responsible for several precincts in South West Brooklyn.

"_Anne Lessiter aged thirty four. She's a cop's wife and Max Lessiter's niece by marriage" _

"Excuse me a moment sir…but if the Commander is in contact with Bergen Beach why do I…"

"_He's not really. He's in Thailand and having trouble with the phone lines"_

"What would we do without telephones?" he muttered

"_Just watch your tone Logan and call this Estrada. Check he's on the ball"_

"Want me to call you back?"

"_No. I'm just about to sit down for dinner"_

"Enjoy sir"

The line went dead.

"Freaking, golf playing, brown nosing, inbred brass!" yelled Logan at the top of his voice.

Sure it was bad if a woman was missing, but he could almost re-construct the series of events. Either this cop called his uncle or someone in the family did, perhaps when Estrada didn't set every officer in the precinct on it when she was only unaccounted for an hour. Probably expected him to start calling officers in from leave and organising everything from a canine unit to the Coast Guard. For a woman whose car might have broken down and forgot to charge her cell.

So Lessiter in Phuket or wherever, calls his old pal Dick just happens to be in charge of every detective in the city. Logan just hoped given the name of the hapless Lieutenant, there was not another agenda going on here. It had been on the tip of his tongue to ask if Estrada spoke English, before he thought better of it.

But before he gave this Estrada more grief by crawling all over his back, Logan switched his computer to the basic personnel database. Checking for male Lessiter's. Max of course appeared and two others. One was un-unrelated civilian CSU in Yonkers and the other, Kevin, a beat cop in Manhattan. The 18th to be precise and they would have had their hands full today with the Macy's parade going right through the centre of their patch.

"Happy Holidays" muttered Logan checking his Rolodex for the number in Bergen Beach.

_**To be continued…**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Friday 28****th**** November**

_**Nostrand Avenue, Brooklyn**_

"Oh my God" said Helen Baxter.

Logan himself swallowed hard at the sight of the headless female corpse in the trunk of the silver _Ford Focus._ The front end was firmly embedded in a streetlight shedding a faint red glow over the whole area. It was beginning to light as darkness fell. Two more hours, shift over and he might have been spared this.

He turned to the officer in charge. A large black sergeant.

"Were any of the kids hurt?" Mike enquired.

"Not enough to take them to the ER" he snorted. "Smart carjackers wear their seat belts these days"

He turned and gestured. "This was the unit that was chasing after them. Making for the hood no doubt. They got to this corner where we were trying to put another unit in place to head them off. Swerved to avoid that, lost control and here we are"

"Fifteen year olds don't make the greatest drivers" said Baxter.

"Don't be so sure" snorted the officer. "That Jordan Lemont has a string of previous. Wasn't for the damn social workers and the other do-gooders the little shit would be up at _Greenhaven _where he belongs"

"You don't seriously think he and the other boys are good for this?" Logan gestured to the trunk where the doc was doing something.

"If they are they've been driving around with her for more than 24 hours" she said. "Been dead at least that. And we don't need to get her on the slab to tell you the head was not surgically removed or with something instant like a chain saw. Took several blows so your instrument is something like an axe or a large masonry chisel"

"Guess we'd better go see what these kids have to say" said Logan.

"It's her of course" said Helen he only brought to be sure Megan could get away on time and because she lived in Brooklyn.

"The dress matches what we know Ann Lessiter was last seen in. And this is her Ford, Mike. Even looks like Thanksgiving food she was taking to Bergen fell out in the back here"

"Let's hope not too many white female heads start turning up all over the city" muttered Logan heading for their car.

_**79**__**th**__** Precinct Station, Tompkins Avenue, Brooklyn**_

The building, which served Bedford–Stuyvesant, _"the hood"_ the sergeant had referred to, was liable to be one of the busier ones. Its officers policed one of the toughest, most deprived and highest crime rate districts in all of New York City. And by the time Logan and Baxter got there tempers were starting to rise.

It does not take long for news to get around a densely populated area, especially one where not a lot of people were out working that day. Either because they were unemployed or because they, like many others in the City, had extended the holiday with some vacation time to make a _"long weekend"._

And sad to say, even in the 21st century when three black boys aged thirteen to fifteen are involved and the _"victim"_ appears to be a white woman, the situation develops overtones. A few local activists were around already muttering it was a _"frame up"_ by the cops and apparently one of those was the older brother of this Jordan Lemont, for once out of some form of custody himself.

A local minister was trying to calm things and a social worker was not exactly being a helpful city employee. By refusing to act as the _"appropriate adult"_ to more than one boy whose parents had yet to be located. In the area in which the boys were held, one cop was close to violating their rights in his enthusiasm, until Logan stopped him.

He looked at the three boys and easily worked out which was the youngest.

"You must be…"

"Rudy Simmons" supplied Baxter from her notes.

"You" Logan gestured to the social worker. "With us please Ms.."

In the relative quiet of an interview room, Mike gave the kid tissues to wipe his bloody nose.

"Got a nosebleed huh?"

The look was a mixture of fear from a kid never figured on the police radar before and the defiance of one been told, by his more streetwise buddies, to keep his mouth shut.

"I used to get them when I was a kid Rudy. When I was scared" Logan lied.

"I ain't scared"

"Yes you are. Your blood pressure has shot up. That means it's pumping hard and fast round your body. It's why your heart is thumping and you feel sick. When that happens the thin skin of your blood vessels can pop. That's what causes a nosebleed"

"A pig hit me"

"No they didn't. See your nose started to bleed again because lying is a stressful business. Best way to stop that, to calm down, is to tell me the truth"

"I ain't saying nothing"

Logan shrugged "Fine. We'll sit here and watch your nose bleed. Of course if it doesn't stop we'll have to take you to the hospital and get it cauterised. You know what that is?"

The answer though silent was obviously _"no"._

"Well they stick a thin wire up your nose and pass electricity through it. Burns the blood vessel and makes it heal over. Hurts like shit of course"

"Detective…" said the social worker

"What?" Logan looking round "Is what I said not true about cauterisation Ms…?"

"No but you are close to threatening"

"I'm just assuring Mr Simmons here he'll get appropriate medical treatment for his nosebleed. What's wrong with that?"

Five minutes later Logan had the information the three boys _"found"_ the car down in Red Hook, where it was unlikely they had gone for innocent adventure. Behind a vacant shop on what he said was the corner of _"Harry"_ and one of _"the places"_

_**Henry St/2**__**nd**__** Place, Red Hook, Brooklyn**_

There is no _"Harry"_ Street in Red Hook and it probably spoke to Rudy's reading abilities he guessed at the name from letters he recognised. And the 76th Precinct in Union Street had known right away the only empty corner lot site in process of demolition bisected by Henry.

A small team from there, the 79th and a canine unit stood by ready to comb through the mix of rubble, trash and semi demolished building behind some wire fencing. One section of which had been cut away, enough to get a car through.

Logan and Baxter with flashlights joined the line as a CSU team arrived. Mike regretting the decent shoes liable to get badly scuffed as they picked their way over the ground. But he didn't have to go far or tread in another split sack of what looked like food waste from a restaurant. Liberally mixed with small things scurried away into the darkness.

The dog soon started to fuss in a corner by the building. Blonde hair was sticking out between some bricks thrown on top and the CSU people, between flashing camera's uncovered enough. To find what was almost certainly the head of Anne Lessiter and judging by the thick dark substance round it, where it had been chopped from her body.

Almost an execution style beheading, judging from the fact her hands were still bound in the trunk of the _Focus _when the rest of her was found. But what was assumed to be a car jacking for a new model or maybe a kidnap, given her family connections, did not fit at all with this kind of death.

Jackers would have dumped her off and taken the car for a spray or parts removal. In the 27 hours or so from her being reported _"missing"_ to the crash on Nostrand, there had been no ransom calls or note. Between her home in Williamsburg and Bergen Beach, where she was due to meet up with the Lessiter clan at their seaside weekend property, she just vanished.

Logan believed the Simmons kid when he said they had no idea the body was in the trunk. It was an accidental find, a crime of opportunity to steal and joyride or find someone to take the car off their hands. Chances were Jordan Lemont knew just where to take it for disposal. Had he succeeded, it was possible the body would never have turned up. No _"chop shop"_ would report it and have means to dispose of it.

As someone told him Kevin Lessiter, the husband and his father Bernie had arrived, Logan gritted his teeth to go talk to them. The cop grapevine was as strong as ever for them to get there so quickly.

_**Logan's Car, Somewhere In Brooklyn**_

It had been a bad day in the end. Made worse by a scene of distress for Kevin Lessiter. Him being a cop still meant he was going to get treated like any other victim and his wife's body the same. Mike had seen that many times before. The assumption there would be difference or privilege or that the uniform meant you could _"stand"_ a sight a civilian could not.

While he was policing a bunch of balloons down Broadway yesterday morning, the wife he planned to meet up with later was at very least getting decapitated. What else might have happened first the ME would have to determine.

And Logan had struggled and been conflicted for a while there in Red Hook. Between trying to offer re-assurance to Officer Lessiter that Major Case would get whoever did this and dealing with his old man. Bernie Lessiter knew three black kids had been driving his daughter-in-law's car. Made the simple assumption the first cops to respond did to begin with and was not inclined to believe Logan. When he said they were highly unlikely to have killed Ann.

But there was a limit to the blatantly racist remarks Lessiter senior was making Logan could tolerate. Especially with officers like Helen and others around to hear it. Luckily, Kevin seemed to get a grip and shut his father up, before Logan opened his mouth or used some muscle to get him further away from the scene.

"_Happy Holidays"_ he murmured softly.

The girl he picked up a few blocks away really got down to business with her head in his lap. It wasn't a solution but it might help him sleep later.

_**To be continued…**_


	16. Chapter 16

**Saturday 29****th**** November**

_**Logan's Apartment, Queens**_

The relentlessly cheerful fanfare announcing the start of a six o'clock news bulletin, stirred him first to consciousness. Followed by the chirpy tones of one of those women he called _"Autocue Barbie"._ Dressed like a _Bloomingdale's _mannequin and with the same level of animation in the face, including the fixed grin. As she tried to make you feel great about _"the weather today"_ and with more caps in her mouth than brain cells in her head, she switched to her other expression.

To the _"serious one"_ made her look constipated before she said _"And now to the murder of a police officer's wife"_

"Oh crap" muttered Logan finding the remote, sending her to _"mute"_ and shoving his head under the pillow.

_**Office Of The Captain, Major Case Squad**_

Danny Ross put down his phone with a four letter word he would punish either of his sons for saying. And briefly looking round for his strings. There were times in his job you really did feel like a puppet. A mindless marionette whose limbs were being operated by a team of often, competing puppeteers. Though today his strings or maybe his chain was being yanked from a driving range in Westchester County.

On his desk was a selection of the day's newspapers, including two local tabloids leading with eye-catching headlines. Eye-catching if words like _"slain"_ and _"headless"_ were the sort encouraged you to buy a paper. And there seemed little doubt about the source of their information, based on quotes from Bernie Lessiter and even a mawkish picture of him holding a wedding photograph of his _"hero cop"_ son and daughter-in-law.

Ross turned to his screen, which contained Logan's report he must have mailed in from home last night. Mike had his faults, but you could not complain he'd left them hanging over a weekend he was not due to work after covering the holiday. That idiot Lessiter must have gone straight from the site where Ann's head was found to meet with a journalist. You would think Kevin might have been able to control his old man, knowing little or none of the content was likely to be of use in finding the killer of his wife. Maybe even the reverse.

It was not the scare such lurid stories induced in sections of the population that bothered Ross or Dick Nichols. It was the time they would now have to spend just _"handling"_ a voracious media. Time better spent other ways and of course, so early in the investigation it would prompt calls from crazies through to the genuinely trying to be helpful. Unfocussed calls reporting every silver _Focus_ seen on Thanksgiving driven by a woman. Instead of the sort of appeal they had put out for _"ski-jacket man"_ with a pretty good pair of descriptions, and times and locations they were interested in.

Ross scanned the last paragraph where Logan had spelled out the attitude of this Bernie Lessiter. Which explained the newspaper reference to the cops being likely to let go _"the black kids found with the car and her body"_. All they needed was an ethnic issue stirring up before CSU and the ME had even begun to do their job.

"Boss" said Jose Sanchez at his door. "It's begun. We can barely pick up phones quickly enough"

"Thanks Jose" Ross replied before muttering. "Crap"

And picking up his phone to call round the building for some re-enforcements.

_**The Mortuary, King's County Hospital, Brooklyn**_

"Sorry doc" said Megan Wheeler juggling a folder of papers onto the top of a steel counter.

"Okay" he shrugged. "I gathered from the message I got you were trying to pull together information from at least three precincts in Brooklyn"

"What are you saying on time?"

"Anything between nine and midday on Thursday Detective, unless you can narrow it down with anything? Trunks of cars in cold weather do strange things to body cooling"

"We have a definite sighting alive at nine fifteen when she left the house and are still checking a gas receipt found in the door pocket timed at nine forty" said Wheeler. "Sexual activity?"

"None…was menstruating actually so wasn't pregnant and all the gynaecology fits with what the family doctor released to me. Had a miscarriage around 18 weeks two and half years ago. Nothing in the blood to indicate legal medication, alcohol or illegal drugs"

The doctor flicked back the sheet where the head was face down.

"Cause of death with decapitation is almost always a broken neck if you go at it from the back. You sever the spinal cord though it's a mixture of crushing and cutting that does that"

He began to indicate the ragged edges round the neck turning the head a couple of times.

"I make six cutting motions at slightly different angles to each other. Second probably killed her. Last couple were just to finish off the sinew and skin at the front to fully disarticulate the head"

Megan showed him pictures of the ground where the head was found. "So this amount of blood is where it happened? Not in the trunk?"

"Yes. The heart will pump a few beats after the column is severed and if you have cut through the major vessels by then, this volume and spray pattern would be right"

He glanced at the picture of the trunk minus the corpse "This is more gravitational bleeding or draining. But she went into the trunk very soon after. The lividity pattern is consistent with the position in this picture"

"The boys say they took the car around one thirty yesterday afternoon. There was quite a chase with them"

The doc shrugged again. "Body would have shifted around a little but not enough to change that. Safe to say she didn't move around between soon after death and then"

"Which tends to put them in the clear along with witness statements for Thursday. Some of which probably are a crock" mused Wheeler. "And I can't see them grabbing and killing her Thursday and then going back Friday to drive her round Brooklyn"

"Stranger things have happened Detective Wheeler"

"Tell me" she muttered thinking they might now be able to piece together the rough route and timings for events from the various statements and other evidence.

_**The Palmetto Service (between Washington and Baltimore)**_

Goren eased carefully out of his seat not to wake Caro who was by the window. The idea they had to leave early enough to stop off in Washington for lunch with his cousin Alan and his family was fine. Until the alarm went off in the guest suite. It seemed to induce almost instant morning sickness.

Hopefully, something no one else heard with the household starting to rouse. They were lucky two out of three mornings, even if he did make out it was him who had taken to drinking ginger tea before going to bed.

In the confines of a rest room felt even more confined when you were his size, Goren noticed in the trash, one of the New York tabloids. He pulled it out and stood a moment or two in the corridor reading the lead story.

Exactly what they did not need right now, burying attention from the weekend press appeal for _"ski jacket man"_ and he could only imagine the sort of controlled chaos Ross would be dealing with right at that moment. But as he read on he resisted the temptation.

To go to the pay phone or rake around in Caro's purse where he thought his cell phone was. She was not likely to appreciate it and neither would his colleagues at the Squad. Sometimes you just had to _"switch off"_ the head from work. He ditched the paper in the trash and returned to his seat.

"Sorry" he said, as Caro seemed to wake with a smile.

"I was awake anyway. Where were we Rob?"

"Deciding Aloysius or Clarissa were not a good idea"

"Did I say that? Are you sure?"

"Yes" he lied.

She giggled "I was just thinking what Mom said before we left. How coming to New York for Christmas will be their first baby free one in almost nine years"

"Guess the way the kids are spread out it will be. You want to wait until then to tell them or after the scan?"

"After the scan" she yawned and wriggled. "I won't be showing but by Christmas I'm bound to look different. Moms _'know things'_ and I swear she's been giving me strange looks all the time we were there"

"Think she might have guessed?"

"No"

To the south Eileen Reece waved off her family members heading for the airport and then Texas. She'd seen Rob being a little extra solicitous at times to her daughter for three days. And probably with good reason, after her hearing the sound of vomiting in the guest suite that very morning. After four kids herself her guess would be sometime in June.

_**To be continued…**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Sunday 30****th**** November**

**_Visiting Officer's Room, Major Case_**

Goren had scanned all the follow up Eames had catalogued on reports of _"ski-jacket man"_ and in a couple of cases, called witnesses himself that they had relied on local cops speaking to and getting statements from. Just to double-check some minor things. There were two possibilities that were interesting but also confusing.

It concerned the distinctive jacket more than the blond man, because both examples claimed it was a young black man they saw wearing one like it. Ordinarily you might discount that as a witness focussing just on the clothing. But as Finn had said, having followed up one himself, it could lead credence to the idea two men were somehow involved in the Moira Regan case.

Because someone at Bellevue had come forward to say a man broadly fit the height and age for the man in the café asking for change, had been seen once or twice around the hospital grounds. It could have innocent explanation like waiting to meet someone or gone out for a smoke, but when it was always occasions near to shift change times and close to ER, you began to wonder.

The second was something _"Jimmy"_ Cagney followed up on Staten Island. Same coat, same broad description, but seen sitting in an old _Ford Taurus_ on Rockland Avenue, close to the Methodist Church. On the second Tuesday of September, a month before Mrs Rollins was smothered. Confirmed date because the citizen getting suspicious had called the cops, though the car was gone by the time they drove by.

And two men to follow or watch potential victims certainly did make sense in terms of the time and effort involved. Goren often found himself thinking like the killer. How he could go about selecting a target and then learn enough about them to maximise his chances of success and not getting caught. And a _"partner in crime"_ to share the load would mean he could carry on his _"normal life"_ without arousing suspicion.

But having offered to help her, he had set that aside to work with Megan. It took them maybe half an hour to sift through various data to come up with a time line and plot that on the map of Brooklyn.

"What makes no sense to me Bobby is why she went for gas here where she got caught on their CCTV. You know Brooklyn well. Surely the obvious way from their home in Williamsburg to Bergen Bay is here…here…south down the Freeway"

"It is" he agreed "Way I would go even on a holiday. No road work or anything causing lines?"

"No" Wheeler sat back down. "Kevin says he was not aware she planned to make any calls on the way. And most of the family, friends and co-workers live either in the north or over in Queens"

"Unless she was meeting someone else or delivering something"

"Given the time she left and the time she was expected in Bergen, Ann did not leave much time for a quick roll round if that was what you were thinking"

"Among other things"

Wheeler snorted "Of course they would say that but Lessiter and his old man especially, almost took Mike's head off his shoulders when he even hinted at that"

She paused and grinned. "Wonder how long it would take before we noticed it was missing?"

"There must be a special recruitment test for some of you" Goren observed. "A _how rude can you be to your male partner_ one"

"Some men just encourage that Bobby" she hinted darkly. "Bring out the worst in us. Ask Alex"

"Think you just exhausted your favours from me today Megan" he made to stand.

"Before you head off to sulk Bobby there is one thing. You don't think this could be one of yours do you? The beheading is…is very Gothic"

Goren glanced at the one other person in the Squad had the most formal training in criminal and crime profiling.

"I did wonder when I read about it on the train and saw _Henry Street_. I know there were three or four history plays involving different Henry's. _The Fifth_ being the best known and I only know of that from the Lawrence Olivier movie. Don't recall beheadings though. Actual or implied"

"Yeah well I have a sadder private life than you right now Bobby" she joked. "I did a little research last night and one good thing about you is you won't laugh"

"Go on" he shrugged.

"There's only one Ann in the Henry history plays. _Anne Boleyn_. Second wife of Henry the Eighth. Had six it seems"

"Uhuh. It was his marriage to her lead to the English church breaking with Rome. How it ended up essentially a Protestant country"

"Amazing things you know. Anyway she was beheaded"

"Henry Street, Second Place…second wife" Goren said quietly.

"I know it's a stretch Bobby and I checked the book on your desk. The actual play ends before that. Just as the King is about to marry her. It's not the nice neat fit you got with some of the others, even this nurse SVU are leading on"

Goren sat with his chin in his hand for a moment "After you on telling Ross that theory"

"Do I see a yellow streak down that long back?"

"No Megs" he smiled. "You see an ass been kicked once too often"

**Monday 1****st**** December**

**_St Luke's Place, Greenwich Village_**

"Hnurgh" muttered Caro rolling and over grabbing the covers round her as Goren got out of bed.

"I knew I should have moved in with a cable repair man"

It had just turned five am, the heating had hardly begun to take the chill off the place and he was shivering in his bathrobe and trying to be both quick for his sake and quiet for hers, to get dressed and leave.

He saved the call to Eames until he got downstairs, thinking there was only one good thing about this situation. The extra call out money would come in useful to address that scary list of things deemed _"essential"_ in the baby book.

Instant coffee in hand he called Soho, apologised for waking Jack McCoy and broke the bad news to his partner. The body of a young black man wearing a pale blue ski jacket had been found in a dumpster. With a knife sticking out of his chest. A dumpster belonging to the Eldridge Street Synagogue, so at least they were not about to trail halfway across the mostly, still sleeping city.

_**To be continued…**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Monday 1****st**** December**

_**Eldridge St Temple, Lower East Side**_

The synagogue was one of the oldest still standing and in use in the whole USA. Opened in 1887, it was built by and to serve, the community of Orthodox Jews entering the country in large numbers at that time, mostly from Eastern Europe. Political and religious refugees from persecution and _pogrom,_ those who stayed behind or could not get away, were to be almost wiped out sixty years later by an Austrian art student.

The style was that Gothic revival mixed with other more exotic flourishes and of course structures that would have featured in the Temple in Jerusalem, which Jesus would have known. Not the stained glass, but things like the exquisitely carved Ark to house the scriptures. Among the quirky or unusual examples of skill and craftsmanship were _trompe l'oeil_ paintings conceived and executed to deceive the eye.

The Jewish population of the area once so great in number, that on special festival days, NYPD had to send officers to marshal the crowds in and around the synagogue. Going to and from the services. But within fifty years all that was to change. Immigration laws were tightened slowing the flow of new migrants and the second generation were moving away. Educated, successful they were re-locating to other neighbourhoods and by the 1930's the Eldridge Street Temple was almost abandoned. A tiny congregation holding services in a small side room, while sections of the building fell into dangerous disrepair.

Though that changed when community leaders began to see the _"het"_ of letting an architectural and cultural landmark vanish. Restoration was a slow business, almost as slow as the Anglicans further north in Manhattan still getting their monolith completed. But the Temple was being restored to its former glory and also acting as museum/cultural centre.

As the lights of the SUV shone down a side/service alley, a large garbage truck was pulling away. To make room for them, the crime scene truck they met coming the other way at the last set of lights and in time, other official vehicles like the ME.

Goren and Eames got out bundled up against the cold at that hour and a sergeant approached them in the company of a smaller man. Bearded and wearing the Homburg hat often favoured by Ashkenazim.

"Morning Sergeant Walenska" said Eames reading the name tab in the dim light. "Alex Eames, he's Goren"

"This is Mr Horowitz, the building super I guess you would call him"

After nods Goren asked with a glance at the dumpster where CSU were setting up "You found the body sir?"

"No" he replied like it was a stupid question he'd be out of his bed at this hour.

"It was the garbage men" clarified the sergeant. "I got names and addresses but they wanted to be off on their round and they were only in the way. I know Mr Horowitz, he just lives around the corner and I thought he could be helpful to us"

"You see the mistake of living in the old neighbourhood" the super rolled his eyes and stamped his feet on the cobbles.

"Usual thing is a couple of guys come on ahead flipping up the lids of the dumpsters and moving them into position for their buddies with the truck" said Walenska

"I've seen it" said Eames.

"As the truck pulls forward to here, one of the guys standing on the running board glances over and looks down into the dumpster. Sees the body and the rest you know. Soon as I saw the jacket and moved a couple of trash bags to be sure he wasn't some drunk and saw the knife I called you. I know he's not a white blond man, but my brother works over in Staten Island. Was one of those did the drive by at the church there…"

"Well that's one mystery solved" muttered Eames. "Wondered how you saw the link to our case. Let's hope the rest is that easy"

"I see the lid of the dumpster has two locks" said Goren "When did you remove those Mr Horowitz?"

"Last evening and…"

"You see usually…"

"Oh quiet will you Paul" muttered the older Jewish man. "You drag me from my bed and warm fat wife. At least let me tell the story. You know the trouble with Catholic Poles? They never stop with the mouth"

Horowitz explained as CSU began to set up small ladders to see inside. The dumpster usually stayed in the small enclosed yard of the Temple and the lid kept closed by two padlocks. People were not unknown to dump their trash in other people's containers they had to pay to get emptied. And there had been one or two unpleasant examples of anti-Semitic behaviour. Like pigs heads being thrown in. But because the yard was so small, when they had a lot of vehicles due in connection with renovation or other events like weddings, he shifted the dumpster out on the alley.

He did that Thursday morning when being _a National Holiday_ they had a lot of volunteers to help with the latest project. _"Too idle"_ in his own description and wanting home for his own Thanksgiving dinner, he locked it up and left it in the alley around four that afternoon. Next time he came back to the building it was coming up to Shabbat. So naturally he was not going to be unlocking it or wheeling the dumpster up and down the short slope into the yard then. He next opened it yesterday morning to dispose of some trash from Shabbat activities and that left from Sunday visitors, including some tour groups. By late yesterday afternoon there was no point, so he just left the padlocks off and went home. Until Pavel here, with a gesture at the sergeant, sends a cop to get him out of bed.

It was a complex story about a dumpster, but it narrowed down significantly the times the body could have ended up in there to Thursday or sometime yesterday. With CSU doing a search around the alley after taking pictures, Goren and Eames got up the ladders. More steps in her case than his.

"Doesn't look so fresh to me Goren" she said as he swept the flashlight over the dead African American and a couple of plastic sacks still on top of him.

"No he doesn't. Sergeant?"

He gestured to Walenska who was holding a _"litter picker"_ the technicians had used to shift some of the sacks aside to expose the torso area.

"You'll never do it" snorted Eames who had spotted what he had. Something sticking out of the left pocket of the jacket.

"You want to _go fish_?" he asked

"Sure I'll have a go" she shrugged as they switched round.

It was more difficult than she expected and Goren would have had a reach advantage, as he held the ladder steady for her.

"Give me that prize goldfish mister" Eames grinned turning with the litter picker.

Goren took the piece of paper from the end. It was a promotional flyer for a _"Thanksgiving Day Special"_ at a place in West Tremont up in The Bronx. But written on the back was another location. An intersection which given the repeat of numbered avenues and streets in almost every borough or across in Jersey, could be anywhere.

Their _"John Doe"_ might be from anywhere too, though their money was on him being from the Bronx where he was handed that flyer or got it pushed through his mailbox. And that he went into the dumpster on Thursday.

Eames opted to go inside the Temple where Mr Horowitz had retreated to his warm office and to make coffee since he was _"stuck here"_ for a while. For one thing to get details from him of who was around on Thanksgiving. It left her partner out in the cold and dank, as CSU were reporting no obvious bloodstains to suggest he was stabbed in the alley and to referee a bickering contest.

Between them and the ME's technicians on how the victim was to be got out of his tomb on wheels and who was going to do it. Bobby was the one picky about what extra tests and checks they were to do, so let him do it was her philosophy.

_**The Office Of The District Attorney**_

Jack McCoy sat across the conference table from Ron Carver on his first day as the new Executive ADA. Between them were spread some of the newspapers from yesterday and a few from that morning, where the dailies had picked up the story of Ann Lessiter.

"Looks like I picked a really good time to resume my career in public service" said Ron putting down his coffee cup and fiddling with one of his cuffs.

"Or I did" growled Jack. "I'd like you to run with this one Ron. See if you can't help Danny Ross shut this Bernie Lessiter up a little. Apart from the ill feeling it's generating in parts of Brooklyn, I got a mail from Dick Nichols saying they are already wasting time following what he calls _"hysterical leads"_

"Won't that step on Teresa's toes?"

"Her feet are big enough and she has her desk full and maybe more so, as this other thing develops"

"They think they could be connected?"

McCoy shrugged "If so the eleventh floor are not saying so yet and…um…so we are clear…I don't have an inside track to…"

Carver waved his hand "I understand. No problem Jack. I'll get to it then"

He picked up his pad on which he'd noted various things McCoy wanted him to lead on in some re-arrangement of roles. One of the incentives to bring him back was how McCoy wanted a different spread of responsibilities to the one he inherited and had been unable to persuade the late George White to change.

"Something for you Ron. A welcome gift"

Jack slid a small box across the table. Inside was a key.

Carver smiled "So there is an executive washroom. I must have missed it all those years. Or did you have one built?"

McCoy chuckled "No. It's the one to your office. You'll need it Ron. Those times you lock the door, switch off the light and pretend you are not there. I do it all the time"

"I'll remember that" Carver grinned as he left.

As the door shut, McCoy's expression changed to one of grim contemplation. He got up, went to his desk and dialled the number for his doctor.

_**To be continued…**_


	19. Chapter 19

**Monday 1****st**** December**

_**The Male Locker Room, Floor 11, 1PP**_

Goren was out of his delayed shower and was changing into one of the shirts and ties he kept in his locker when Logan arrived. The shave could wait until tomorrow.

"How did you fix such a short shift today Mike?" he muttered fastening his belt and reaching for his gun.

Logan pulled a thick jacket from his locker.

"By having you help my partner yesterday. Off to the airport to meet the Olsson's coming in from Minneapolis. Nice way to make only your third or fourth visit to New York huh?"

Goren nodded. He gathered from Megan yesterday more or less all Ann Lessiter's family lived there.

"A Columbia language major wasn't she?"

"Uhuh. Come to New York, get an education, teach school and get your head hacked off" Mike muttered. "See you Bobby"

Goren did not need to ask why he was not his usual self that day. He left slipping on his jacket and wondering what Eames had fetched him from the cafeteria for breakfast.

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Goren sat eating the egg and sausage on sesame. His partner had got as far as the muffin and coffee and was reading from her screen. Once the issue of getting the body out was solved, they had at least been able to pull a wallet from the corpse had a driver's licence identified him as Antony Brown at an address in Tremont. In one of the tougher Bronx districts. And it seemed he was well known to the system, apart from the fact the driver's licence had shown up as suspended.

"Possession, possession, supply…got six months added on that time for attacking another inmate" read Eames.

"Most recent?"

"Two years ago, shoplifting. Must have got lucky with a judge…to get a suspended and probation" she mused scrolling down. "I'll give this PO a call"

"And I'll check these locations"

"Finish your breakfast" his partner instructed him.

"Or I'll give myself an ulcer?"

Eames must have said that a million times to him over the years.

"It's thanks to me you don't have one now…_Ken Allgood?_…hi Detective Alex Eames, Major Case"

It was possible she was right about that and Goren had often speculated Alex must have a digestive system like a garbage disposal.

Ten minutes later she was pulling off a warrant for Brown's address a judge had accommodated them with before the morning court session was due to start. And found Goren in Logan's seat. As she went over Megan Wheeler was saying _"Of all the corners in all the world"_

"What's up?" said Eames waving the warrant at her partner.

"Bobby checked out all the possibles for that scribbled note in your vic's pocket Alex" she tapped a map. "One of them is here in Brooklyn"

"And so?"

"And so yesterday he worked with me on a time line for everything we knew about Ann Lessiter's disappearance on Thursday. We both thought it odd she stopped for gas here, when she should logically have been heading this way down the Freeway" Wheeler tapped a road map. "Of course it could be it refers to one of the others but one option is here. Where she stopped for gas"

"You think she's another _Shakespeare Killer_ victim? How?"

Goren stood up. "I'll tell you on the way Eames but let's bear it in mind at Brown's place"

"Okay" she said as they returned to their own desks. "By the way Jill called from the lab. They are doing a composite of Brown, as he was earlier with the old DMV and mug shots. Paste him into a blue jacket and see if we can get a positive for the guy seen at Bellevue and Staten Island. Helen is going to get those out"

"Fine" he put his _'Complete Works"_ back in his desk drawer.

"Did you decide yet? Think Brown's another?"

"Too early to say"

"I had an idea about that. I'll tell you in the car"

They had reached the door carrying their coats.

"How was your Thanksgiving by the way Bobby?"

"Better than the one a lot of people had"

_**Beeker Street, Tremont, The Bronx**_

It was one of those buildings, in one of those streets; in one of those parts of town when you arrived wearing a badge everyone took note. Those you could see and those you could not and those who reacted, did so in various ways. They either tried to melt inconspicuously away or kept their doors shut or in a few cases assumed you were there to deal with their burglary or report to the local precinct.

The lady along the hall cussing the two of them and the two local uniforms with them, when she discovered it was not about her TV got stolen a week ago and no-one been by since. You could not blame her in a way as they stood back and let the two uniforms force open the door. It took some time given the number of locks and gave them plenty of time to have gloves on and evidence bags at the ready.

Monday mornings were a bad time to rely on CSU support. The reduced shifts over the weekend, especially one after a holiday, meant there was a backlog of scenes to process and it could be hours before they might hope for a local one to arrive the two uniforms told them.

They went in guns drawn just in case, though Brown was believed to live alone and it doesn't take long to determine one room plus a tiny bathroom and kitchenette _"clear"._

"Well I guess that answers one question" said Eames gesturing to a needle and other _"works"_ on a table.

All the paraphernalia of a heroin user.

"His former probation officer will be disappointed" said Goren opening a rickety free standing closet and starting with the clothes.

The reason Brown avoided jail on the shoplifting offence was that at the time he was in supervised work, had been _"clean"_ through a re-hab programme for three months and had turned in other people. He was he claimed, pressured into it for clearing an old drug debt and since his information led to a real nuisance gang of organised thieves/dealers getting caught, he got the benefit of the doubt. Though it had made them wonder if that could be motive for his murder. Except that was delayed a very long time and you might have expected _"revenge" _to be exacted more locally if anyone knew it was him who squealed.

The room was a mix of squalor and some high-end goods. Like a pair of _Gucci_ shoes Goren found or the big TV the uniforms were checking the serial number of, as possibly stolen.

"Uurgh" yelped Alex opening the cupboard under the sink. "Someone's got a leak in their pipes"

She lifted out the bucket of filthy, putrid water catching the drips to see behind it.

"Bobby?"

Goren quit his lifting out of drawers to see if there was a stash hidden might indicate Brown was financing his shoes and hi-fi system through dealing.

In the light of Eames' torch was something with a handle sticking out of a brown paper bag. One stained with blood.

"Here" he handed her the digital camera from his pocket and took the flashlight from her.

Then three shots taken, she lifted it from the rear of the cupboard by the handle and passed it to him. The temptation to pull the bag off immediately was great but he waited for Eames to stand up and take pictures of that process. That it was a hand axe came as no surprise and in one way neither did the blood and a few long blond hairs stuck to it.

They looked at each other before Goren pulled a bag from his pocket to drop the _"head"_ end into. Eames was pulling her phone from hers to put a rocket under the CSU team.

_**SUV Fourth Avenue/Bowery**_

It was as well they took the time for those breakfast muffins as any concept of _"lunch"_ either in time or food long gone by the time they were returning to 1PP. Ahead of them somewhere in a central CSU vehicle, was the axe and several other items. Among them a map of Staten Island with both the church the Rollins frequented and their home street marked. Same with one of Brooklyn showing that junction where Ann Lessiter filled her tank and photographs. Medium distance _Polaroid's_ of Moira Regan near her home and her. At what looked to be the school where she taught Italian and Spanish.

"You don't think he was able to pass himself off as the white guy do you Goren?" asked Eames. "With a Hispanic mother Antony was light skinned"

He flicked through his folder just to double check "Doubt it. That ski jacket adds the impression of bulk but all the chess players put him at about one ninety. Athletic build. My guess is Tony probably didn't top one sixty and that acne scarring would probably show up under make up. Though…"

Eames waited knowing that head of Bobby's was metaphorically flicking to what she always thought of as the _'card index system'_ he seemed to have up there at times.

"The lack of prints on the nurse's coffee from the jogger we are sure handled the cup. Plastic skin or even _Superglue_ on the pads would do that"

"But you can't see Brown having the skill to apply that under other make up to hide the acne pits" Eames thought it through as they halted at lights.

"Apart from the fact we found nothing like that in the apartment. And his grandmother laughed when we asked if he ever saw a Shakespeare play or movie. As we almost did. When she told us he informed her he was doing some work on the side of his social security. For a private detective"

"I think she only believed that because she wanted to" said Eames.

Mrs Brown had essentially raised Tony, his brother and another half sibling when their mothers and her son variously ran off or got sent to jail.

"Me too" said Goren "But let's suppose that blood is Ann Lessiter's and he did kill her, maybe some of the others too. Do you see a guy who barely scraped his GED as the Shakespearean mastermind?"

"No more than I believe NASA wanted to go to Jupiter when Kennedy said they were to put a man on the moon"

"Excuse me?"

"Long story" Eames laughed.

_**To be continued…**_


	20. Chapter 20

**Tuesday 2****nd**** December**

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

McCoy got up from the table to get the coffee pot.

"I'll do it" said Eames jumping to her feet and almost knocking him over in her haste to reach it first.

"I can pour us both a cup of coffee you know"

"I know. Just I'm nearer" She topped up both mugs as he sat down. "You want some toast Jack?"

"If I want it I'll get it" he muttered.

"No need to be so grouchy"

"And no need for you to treat me like an invalid Al" McCoy snapped. "But if this is what it's like now God alone knows what it will be like…"

Eames looked at him and he shut up.

"I'm sorry"

"Me too Jack. But it's hard not to…"

"I know" he sighed taking her hand. "I guess I would be the same. And us fighting or getting snappy…"

"Is stupid. You sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"Not today. At most it's just a blood test but when I have to go to the hospital? Yes please"

"It will be fine, nothing I'm sure"

"And if it's not…please don't argue on that Al. We have to think that way. From what Malcolm said and we found out, we don't have the luxury of time if it is"

"I know" she stroked his fingers gently.

"Which means…which means I think we might need to talk about some things I…probably you didn't ever think…at least..."

It was strange seeing a sharp and articulate attorney lost for words.

"I understand. I won't be late tonight. Try not to be yourself"

"Swear" he crossed his heart with his free hand "I love you"

"I love you Jack" she said trying to swallow down negative emotions and not think _"bad"_ thoughts.

_**The Mortuary, Bellevue Hospital, Fifth Avenue**_

The area taken up by the hospital and the medical school also contained, in other buildings or nearby ones, a number of related medical services. Including the office of the Chief Medical Examiner, though there were facilities at hospitals throughout the city where post mortems could be undertaken for the vast majority of people died of _"natural causes"._

Senior examiners like Liz Rogers, who did a lot of the _"suspicious"_ ones in Manhattan where police involvement at the start was going to be necessary, generally went where the body went. Usually the nearest hospital with suitable facilities. But her _"base"_ was at Bellevue and because of workload or other factors, she would ask for one to be sent there.

Which was how Antony Brown ended there, not at the nearer _Beekman Downtown_ and as she said when Goren arrived, he was not the only _"customer"_ the holiday weekend brought in. It was a long established fact that violence within the family increased at what was supposed to be _"happy"_ times. Constrained round a table with people you would prefer not to be with, irritation rose, often fuelled by alcohol and old feuds and grievances came to the surface. Spousal abusers abused and occasionally, murder or more likely manslaughter, occurred. As well as the slight rise in accidents the ER found themselves dealing with. People cutting themselves with electric carvers not used for a year or falling off their roof fixing lights.

For Goren, as they waited on Eames was a little late, there had been a bonus coming to Bellevue. He got to spend a little more time with Caro travelling across town with her. And on a morning with occasional flakes of snow falling, it was good to have a hand to hold walking from the subway and the promise he could forget the dissertation later for what she called _"a proper discussion"_ about the dining room

That it _"had"_ to be done for Christmas time was not a surprise and judging by other things, all the major decisions would be made already and the cost turn out far less than he might imagine.

When Eames arrived, Rogers flicked back the sheet to expose the face of Antony Brown and lifted out one arm showed visible fresh track marks.

"Okay then. Prints check out to the justice system so it's him, subject to the grandmother's formal ID. Time of death? Between one and two pm on Thanksgiving"

"That precise?" frowned Eames.

"Easy" said Rogers passing her a bag containing a register receipt. "When you find that in the pocket of his pants and a barely begun to be digested Whopper, fries and vanilla shake in his stomach. And the rest jives with that"

The medic shrugged. "Up to you to work out the timeline but I can tell you he was not dead long before he was tipped in that dumpster. The lividity is consistent with the position, but the stab wound is not what killed him"

"Heroin" said Goren.

"Uhuh. Massive dose though I can't find evidence it was administered to him or against his will. Not stabbed into his neck or anything like that. But the heart was stopped when the knife went in. Too little bleeding into the chest cavity"

"CSU confirmed the knife only had his prints. How many people commit suicide by stabbing themselves and then climb into a dumpster? All that had to be staging by someone else" said Eames "How long had he been using again?"

"At least six months based on hair and nail samples and he got something else for his trouble. He was HIV positive which he wasn't when he was in that re-hab programme. Probably got it when he went back on drugs. Sharing a needle with whoever might have encouraged him. Surprising how often that happens. And one other curiosity. I assumed like you probably did, the blood in the groin of his pants came from the chest wound the way he was sort of folded up in the dumpster. But this is what we found when we got his clothes off"

Rogers pulled back the sheet from the bottom.

"And he didn't catch himself in his zipper by the way. Someone hacked off his foreskin. Took the tip of the head with it too"

Eames had never seen Goren look queasy at anything vaguely biological and he didn't exactly look that, so much as get that expression all guys get when it comes to that part of their anatomy. That slightly pained one at just the prospect of injury to any part of their genitalia.

"I guess" he said slowly his brain kicking into gear. "It might be some sort of mockery…a crude bris? The dumpster of a synagogue…a dead body in the boundary of a Temple over Shabbat…would be anathema to the Orthodox community"

"And where does that happen in Shakespeare?" asked Eames.

"It doesn't and if we are right there is a second man and he did this, to be rid of his partner who might be starting to become a liability…"

"You thinking _Merchant of Venice_ Bobby?" asked Rogers. "The name makes you think"

"We did wonder at first, though Canal Street is some blocks away …but thinking of those earplugs…that was a sort of ghoulish joke and of course the merchant, Antonio, never does have to give up the pound of flesh nearest his heart to Shylock…"

"Who people often mistake as being the title character of the play" said Rogers "Okay…I read some books other than medical ones Bobby…even dated a Lit major for a while in college"

"It's _Othello_" said Goren "The Moor of Venice. The darker skin, the stab wound…he kills himself right at the end when he realises he killed his wife for nothing" he walked around the table a little.

"Weren't the Moors Moslems?" said Rogers. "They circumcise"

"Mostly…it was a word in use in Europe in Shakespeare's time for all people from North Africa… but in almost his last words Othello refers to himself…it's one of the phrases makes for the modern controversy of the play…because of the racial and religious bigotry…it's possibly what motivates Iago…I remember…Othello says something like '_I take the circumcised dog by the throat and kill him thus'_…then stabs himself"

Goren paused and began to turn "Of course what you said about Canal Street could also apply Eames because…" he trailed off. "Eames?"

She wasn't there.

"Where did Alex go?"

"Rest room I think. In a hurry. Looks kind of pale today. Want me to go check?"

"No…um…yes…maybe you should" he was as puzzled and confused as he ever was.

_Maybe he just pissed Alex off once too often with his distractions? Letting those thought processes escape again that might have been better kept silent? Or maybe she was sick?_

Five minutes later Goren was leaving, with the paperwork, with Liz reporting no sign of Eames in the rest room. And with two new mysteries on his hands.

Finding his partner. And then discovering what was wrong.

_**To be continued…**_


	21. Chapter 21

**Tuesday 2****nd**** December**

_**The Parking Lot, Bellevue Hospital, Fifth Avenue**_

There was no sign of Eames at their SUV and Goren supposed he could have gone back inside and still not found her. So he resisted the temptation to call her cell, got the downwind side of the vehicle and stayed the one place she would come back to. Though with the snow starting to fall more heavily, it would not be long before he reached for his phone.

It was probably no more than three or four minutes before he saw her come around the corner of the building, the amount of snow on her coat and woolly hat telling him she had been mostly outside. He did not move from the driver's side door.

"I'm sorry Alex" he said. "I lost focus there a while. Allowed my fascination with literary parallel to get the better of me."

"It's not that" she replied not looking at him. "Stomach upset this morning. Needed some air"

He ducked round to see her face "You've been crying".

Goren had only seen that perhaps three times in all the years they knew each other. And he was sure he was right.

"It's the wind" she said knowing it was like telling that to a human lie detector and trying to get away with it.

"Want to try that answer again?"

"No because if I say yes you'll want to know why"

"Not if you don't want to tell me Alex" he said gently.

She scuffed the snow with her foot "Yes okay I've been crying"

"You want to go home? To the docs?"

"No"

"Want me to drive?"

"Are you kidding me?" she muttered.

He stepped aside, went around the other side of the car and got in.

Eames removed her hat and gave it a shake off before starting the engine and giving the wipers and fan a little time to clear the screen. Goren was waiting for her to speak first.

"So do you think there might have been some hate factor behind the choice of dump site?"

"Don't know what to think right now" he pulled off his gloves.

If that was the way his partner decided she wanted to go right now, that's the way he would follow.

"Antony Brown either killed Ann Lessiter or was set up to look like he did. By the other man"

Eames eased the SUV out of its slot. "The blood on the axe was hers and I did some rough calculation last evening. If she was lured to meet with Brown on Thanksgiving he could have killed her down in Red Hook…say by ten thirty? Gone back up to the Bronx to ditch the axe and still been at that burger place…by what time on the register slip Goren?"

"Twelve fifty" he said opening his folder to the bag. "Meets with the second man who might have killed him and dumps him consistent with two pm. And on a holiday there's not the business and commercial traffic on the roads to slow you down. Be helpful if his car turned up"

"If it does it will burned out somewhere I bet" said Eames. "And he may not have used his own. Could have stolen cars in advance. Had one waiting down in Red Hook to make his getaway in. Had a case in Vice like that one time. We were sure a pimp killed a business rival and dumped him on the Staten landfill. His car came up clean but later, just chance, matching blood turned up in another reported stolen and later found abandoned"

"You get him?"

"Only because one of his girls turned him in"

Goren doodled a moment. "What do you think about the idea of us going fully public on this whole thing? Brief on the idea of a Shakespeare obsessed serial?"

Her head whipped round "I think we'll need to cancel all police leave from now until New Year to cope with the response. It will be chaos! I'm surprised to hear you say that Goren"

He sighed. "Unless we can find the key to this or get a really lucky break, a piece of dumb luck there's bound to be pressure to do that. Maybe even at this meeting Ross has called this afternoon"

"We'll have every woman called Juliet in the city scared to open her front door" muttered Eames. "And I can't think of other examples right now, but there must be plenty"

"So that's a no?"

"Call it a _hope not_"

**_Major Case Squad Room_**

When they returned there were several clues that perhaps the decision Goren spoke of had already been made. Or at very least, some early preparations were in hand to allow for it. Just inside the main Squad Room door were two large boxes containing spare telephones ready to be plugged in. One of those annoying people from Personnel made up the rules on what size desk you could have, was in Ross' office with someone from Buildings Maintenance and what looked like a floor plan.

Possible she was checking they didn't have four drawer file cabinets where they were only supposed to have ones with three, but everyone doubted that. It looked more like they were calculating how many extra desks they could legally or physically squeeze into the room. And in the two side rooms Ross fought regularly to keep as work and informal meeting space, someone from the IT section seemed to be running a check on the network cabling to permit more terminals to be installed.

It had all the signs of them gearing up for a temporary expansion of the Squad to handle a major incident, with the help of officers who would be drafted in from all over 1PP and perhaps beyond. Availability more than experience and ability often the qualifying factors for them. The public reaction, possible panic and the media scrimmage Eames spoke of were just some aspects of what made that situation hell. The other, for Captain Ross especially, would be trying to lash together the permanent staffing with a bunch of strangers, some of whom would need directions to the rest rooms.

Little wonder a few faces were rolling their eyes when they returned and according to Faith Dempsey one _"rumour"_ was that were going to run with the idea of a crazed academic or failed drama student.

"Eames?" Goren said as they sat down. "Would you mind if I gave this a bit longer? I thought I'd chase up the precincts and Squads did not even send a positive _'no'_ on similar cases"

"Sure" she said "Hand me over your messages relating to other things. I'll see if I can bat those off too"

"Thanks" he said reaching for his phone as Logan and Wheeler returned.

"Oh great" Mike hissed. "Looks like we may be about to become call centre central"

"Perhaps it's so we can take orders for Santa?" said Megan. "Don't bother calling Mike. I know for a fact you've been a bad boy this year"

"I've been very good being bad though" he winked.

"So you would like us to think" snorted Eames. "You just come back from seeing the Lessiter's?"

Logan nodded. "I suppose you could call them and the Olsson's the lucky ones. Looks like we know who killed Ann, even if it is more complicated than that. And of course there are…let's say features of Antony Brown gave that father some satisfaction"

"You really don't like him Mike do you?" said Goren who had read his report from Friday.

"Neither do I" said Wheeler with a shrug. "Now I met him. Domineering, bullying sort…way he more or less ordered his wife around…like she was a servant to get us a coffee. And you could see the Olsson's were uncomfortable"

"How's the husband holding up?"

"Hard to say Alex" replied Mike. "Doing as his old man tells him it feels to me. Hardly saw him without Bernie there though I guess that's normal. Anyway we'll leave you to it. I can see Bobby's dying to get hold of his phone, even if Christmas did come early for him this year"

He leaned over and hissed "And if you decide you don't want your present after all, send her over to me. I'll provide the stockings"

"You're disgusting Logan" said Eames. "Take him away Megan"

"My pleasure"

She gave Logan a shove in the direction of their desks. Goren picked up his phone saying nothing but suspecting Logan might change his mind on that if he realised Caro would arrive with a little _"surprise package"_ of her own. Of _their_ own.

Fifteen minutes later he was into his sixth call and well aware of Eames keep checking her watch. Nor did he miss her a while later, slip her cell into her pocket and leave the room. For some place to make or take a private call. It was half an hour before she returned and he was sure she had been crying again. Goren said nothing. There were too many things today leaving him unsure where to go next.

_**To be continued…**_


	22. Chapter 22

**Tuesday 2****nd**** December**

_**The Conference Room, Floor 11, 1PP**_

The absence of anyone from any of the logistical support services at the meeting indicted to Goren, Eames, Logan and Wheeler that Danny Ross had either not made his own mind up which way to go or been told yet. By the likes of Dick Nichols and others. The _"brass"_ he did a pretty good job of keeping off their backs and which they maybe gave him insufficient credit for at times

But the presence of Jocelyn Barnet, the second most senior person in CSU and Jorge Mendez from Narco told you it was going to be one of those _"last ditch"_ sessions. Before they went for one of the _"scatter gun"_ approaches, to use Ross' own words at the start. Jorge there, as he explained, because of the way GHB had featured as the _"weapon"_ in one case and because of what they knew about drug connections in The Bronx that Brown might have had.

Finn arrived with his regular partner, John Munch that did make you wonder why Benson was not there. The _Regan_ case originally had her name on it. And the rest of _"the party"_ was made up of Ron Carver, as much _"standing in"_ for Teresa was in court, as making it clear he would have some executive oversight of the case, with finally, George Huang. He consulted a lot for SVU, had done occasionally for Major Case and these days Goren knew him best as one of the psychiatrists Caro knew and occasionally worked with.

The issue of Antony Brown was one at least there was rapid and unanimous agreement on. He looked _"good"_ at least superficially to have killed one victim, there was strong ID evidence he was linked to two others in some way and was, with his narcotic history, possibly the source of the GHB. His likely dealers in The Bronx were, Mendez said, not exclusively in the heroin trade. But everyone agreed it was impossible to believe he acted alone and even if the drug overdose killed him was _"accidental"_ that did not explain the mutilation and staging of his body. But he could also be some sort of _"key"_ to the rest.

"I'm prepared to buy into that theory" said Megan of something Finn said. "He was either an accident his partner, the real planner in this, took the chance to make look like another in the series. Or perhaps his drug use was making him unreliable, a risk. So he was disposed of by the accomplice"

"Call me a conspiracy theorist" joked Munch. "But you wonder if the aim was to set him up for the whole lot eventually. Use him as a patsy to quote a certain lone rifleman"

"See what you say John based on the evidence we found at his place" Eames chipped in. "But that assumes the second man, the one we are calling _'ski jacket'_, had an end game in mind. In which case Captain, we could have reached it with Antony's death"

"Either that" shrugged Logan. "Or he is aiming to recruit new help?"

Huang leaned forward. "From where Mike? Dual enterprise killing not for material gain is rare. It almost always involves two people with strong and long-standing emotional, psychological and often sexual bonds between them. They use murder as a way of strengthening those bonds. Did we find anyone yet in Brown's life might fit that pattern?"

"We only just started scratching at his life" replied Ross. "There is another possibility. That Brown just did a lot of the grunt work for the other guy. That there was some hold over him for his co-operation"

Carver put the cap on his pen. "Blackmail? A debt? And if all or some of evidence at his apartment was planted, I suppose it's possible Brown was not fully aware of all that was behind what he was being asked to do"

"Or was just being paid" said Mendez. "We've got no evidence he was dealing to fund his habit or his wide screen TV. Heroin addiction doesn't make you too choosy about the work you take on"

"We're still looking for pattern I take it?" said Munch.

"Well if there is I don't see it" said Wheeler. "I've been round and round it and I guess Bobby has too but there is an idea George and I had"

"I'll take a ouija board right now" muttered Ross.

"If I may?" said Huang.

He went on to describe something that Wheeler obviously knew something of and which Goren had stumbled across in a journal. It was on his list at home to _"follow up"_ when his thesis was complete, though he guessed in future his _"spare time"_ would be limited and for a very good and exciting reason. It was something a German criminologist had developed and which had been first tried there and according to Huang, only two other places. In Queensland, Australia and San Francisco where the authorities had each been trying to solve cases involved disparate and unconnected victims.

"Did it work George?" asked Finn.

"In Australia it did. When the close family and friends of all the victims were brought together, they identified three or four things from deep in the history that no regular inventory the police used could hope to uncover. And in Germany it was the refusal of one man's brother to take part made the police suspicious of him"

"Did he do it?" asked Jocelyn

"Still to come to trial and most European countries have tighter pre trial disclosure laws than we do in the USA" the shrink shrugged. "But if you want to try it, I have the inventory for the guided discussion groups"

"A cop and a shrink?" said Eames who had been studying some papers on method he passed round.

"Yes and I took the liberty of speaking with one or two people I know. One officer and one…um…shrink should stay clear to observe…I'm guessing that would be me and you Captain"

"Myself or maybe you Alex? Or Bobby? Most of these are on your desks. What do we think to the idea?"

"Nothing to lose" shrugged Logan. "But we do have one problem right away. Do we treat Brown as a victim or a perp? Because I tell you now there's one whole side of the Lessiter family will not play ball if his granny and a group of Tremont twenty-buck, baggie boys are in the same room"

"And that's assuming any of them would come" said Mendez.

"I expect we could agree some lines for immunity in relation to other offences" said Ron "If that would help"

"Bobby?" frowned Ross "You don't look so sure?"

"No…I mean I know something of the theory and I would be…um…interested I guess to give it a try"

Huang laughed "Good because Caroline is one of the people I had in mind to help. Her expertise in group work would be ideal"

Goren looked up slightly startled, before realising they had always known it was possible her job at _Bellevue_ could bring them into vague _"work"_ contact. The hospital and Medical School were contracted by a number of city agencies and _"consult"_ work was in her contract.

"Not a problem for you?" asked Ross starting to get irritated by Goren's rare silence for much of the meeting.

"Um…no…it was what George said just now. It touched on the one other possibility I have been turning over" he fiddled with his pencil. "Is now a good time…only I was waiting until…"

"Yes"

"The only other thing I came up with is one which has happened once or twice other times in _series _more than strictly _serial_ killings…and these look more like that to me…especially with Brown now dead…that the pattern is to hide another…a much simpler pattern"

"Is he speaking English?" asked Munch.

"Shut up" hissed Finn.

Goren turned to look down the table "If I want to kill one person in this room…let's say you John, since you volunteered yourself…how do I keep my motive hidden? Bury it so the people out there don't suspect me?"

"You kill Jocelyn, Finn and Ron here in a similar way" said Eames.

She might have something upsetting her right now, something else on her mind, but Goren nodded across to his partner. Should have known she would be with him and back him and he knew he would miss that as much as anything about Eames in future.

"It has happened" said Wheeler who would know the examples from the literature.

"You mean only one of these people was the intended victim? And all the rest are just…just props" frowned Jocelyn.

"It's probably what Doris Bunker was" said Eames. "We said that from the start on her"

At that moment Faith Dempsey stuck her head around the door with an apologetic glance at Ross before hissing in Mike's ear. He got up and went with her. They all knew she would not have come in without very good reason and nor would Logan be leaving to fix a dinner date.

"If" said Ross with one of those tones told you he might be mildly sceptical. "If, that's a possibility, does that block this idea of yours George? Because we could have the killer in the room. The only ones we could safely eliminate would be Willard's kids. Even Ed Rollins, who was in jail at the time of the other deaths, could have orchestrated them. Knew he'd eventually be exonerated on his wife as more bodies turned up"

The psychiatrist thought a moment. "It would need some adaptation but like I say, in Germany that's what clued the police in…though the situation was different…and of course if that's so it might do the same"

"What was it happened in _Hamlet?"_ shrugged Eames "He used the actors who came to court to re-enact the murder of his father. It's what ultimately exposed his uncle"

"We don't want an ending like that" muttered Carver "That's when the bodies really started to mount up"

There was some general discussion for a few minutes, almost began to get out of control. Eventually Ross tapped the table as Logan re-appeared.

"It's obvious the other thing will take forty eight to set up. Question is, how do we go about moving forward meantime? Test out the idea that there is another method underlying this madness? I can see it will gnaw at Bobby until we do"

"_Though this be madness, yet there is method in't_" said Goren.

"Excuse me?"

"That's the correct quote Danny" said Carver without thinking. "What Polonius actually said"

"Well thank you for that"

Ross was spoiled for choice. Which of them to glare at first or hardest.

"Before you give Goren detention for being a smart ass again boss?" said Logan "I think we might have another victim"

_**To be continued…**_


	23. Chapter 23

**Tuesday 2****nd**** December**

**St Luke's Place**

There was powdery snow blowing around but not really settling when Eames turned the SUV into Goren's street. He had not asked why she was taking some urgent personal time tomorrow morning. That's why they called it _"personal time"_ and in that he had much to spare today, he would not deny all manner of thoughts had gone through his head. About what might be wrong in her life right now and so suddenly.

Arranging for Logan to go with him to New Jersey to speak to Byron Kay was no hardship to him. And since Wheeler was more familiar with this approach of Huang's they would probably still run with, she was the best person to work with him. On adapting the inventory the German psychiatrist had come up with in conjunction with the Hamburg cops, the first time it was tried.

"Do you use the street level door at all Bobby?" Eames asked as they drew to halt at the kerb.

"Not much though we might through winter. Fewer steps to slip on, than to the basement one. We did think about taking it out completely, maybe create a closet or study area, but Peter said we'd never get planning approval for this part of the Village"

"Would make things like new furniture delivery more complicated" she mused.

"That too" he said noting from the lights Caro was home and knowing this sudden shift to the domestic was leading somewhere.

"Want a coffee Alex? Or stay to dinner if Jack's out tonight?"

"No thanks"

Goren sensed her glance over at him in the almost darkness inside the car.

"Do I have to tell you Bobby? There's something I think you need to know?"

"I know there's something Alex. And I have been worried about you all day"

"It's not me Bobby" Eames said quietly. "It's Jack. Yesterday morning he um…he found a small lump on…he was in the shower"

"I see" Goren said knowing exactly where she meant and what that could mean.

He checked himself regularly and had done for years. Since one young guy he entered basic training with was found at his intake medical to have a previously undiscovered irregularity. All of them in the barrack discovered later that did turn out to be just a benign cyst on his testicle. But that was unusual and Goren assumed a lesson more than just he learned from. At an age young men still think they are invulnerable and invincible.

"He saw his doc, got it confirmed it wasn't imagination and had a blood test done. Guess you know there are fairly distinctive markers for testicular…cancer…shit…that word is hard to say"

"It's just a word Alex" he said reaching for her hand and holding it in his.

He patted it slightly awkwardly "And you no doubt know or found out, the stats. It has one of the best. For successful and complete cure I mean"

"Oh yes" Alex sighed. "Between Malcolm Goldstein and a couple of websites, we now know all about inguinal orchiectomy, carboplatin, implants, sperm banking, testosterone patches and the rest"

He could hear the anger and misery and fear in her voice.

She laughed a little "Though Jack says he should be flattered. To get something most commonly diagnosed in guys eighteen to forty five. Trouble is, that's the group with the best chance…who…usually make the full recovery"

"That's in part because they do check themselves more than older guys and maybe are not so…so coy about going to the doc…less likely to see other…um…symptoms as normal for their age. Gets found and treated early"

"Jack read something about that. And he's adamant he's not delayed getting it looked at…and…and the only other thing is him being tired…more so once or twice lately…but with George's plane going down he's been under more pressure and work"

"And tomorrow you are going for the ultrasound with him?"

"Yeah. Seems they can get a fairly good idea how…how bad it could be from that. But I wanted you to know because…because of all sorts of reasons Bobby. If I'm not carrying my end of the log…"

"You carried my end for a time Alex" he said quietly and giving her hand a squeeze. "My turn now. And easy to say, but try not to make things worse worrying about that"

"Ross will need to know at some point if it is, but if it is the op could be as early as next week. We haven't yet talked about how public Jack might go on it. You know the sort of shit goes with that job Bobby. There's part of him I think, might want to be fairly open on it. If only to act as a wake up call, to guys who don't check themselves. Some good could come of it"

"Has with some other public figures" Goren said. "And quite a few of them young sportsmen"

"Yeah well we'll see. Lot of things we have to deal with. And talk about"

"I'm sorry Alex. Happening right now too just as…"

"Uhuh. Anyway we both must go"

"I…um…I know we never did the hug thing much Alex but…"

"Oh yes" she almost sobbed.

He held her until they laughed a little. When she said it was pretty bold to sit in front your own home openly holding _"another woman" _in your arms_._

The one he was holding a few hours later was with rather different intent. Caro thinking as Rob's fingertips and mouth trailed down her body of the cruel irony. How Jack and Alex were facing a procedure tomorrow would contain similar elements to the one they were going for on Friday evening.

And how if…no…_when _their baby was pronounced fine…it might be tactful to wait on breaking that news in the circumstances of Jack and Alex getting the _"bad"_ sort tomorrow. Though any further thought on that was cut short.

By just how well Rob did that.

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

Eames knew Jack was as wakeful as her. Could feel the tension in his body pressed against hers and the conscious rhythm of his breathing. They had talked around and around so many things through the evening. In the way you do when a lot is still unknown. When you need fuller information to make the _"best"_ decision. When much remains as an _"if, but or maybe"._

Issues as Jack had said, they never imagined having to tackle so soon and one in particular, they had never discussed. Stupid really and what she took for granted was his view, turned out to be wrong. Or as he admitted himself, this business might have affected his take on that. Could not be sure and maybe it was faced with the possibility of having no option in the future; he wanted ways to keep that open.

Her anger that they were faced with this _"thing"_ and his fear. Not of treatment or even the worst outcome, but of losing her as a result. The kind of experience taught you a lot about each other as McCoy said. He never really seeing her capacity for anger before, anymore than she had seen real fear in him until now. But at least they did not end up fighting over any of it.

Time as they say, would tell. About a lot of things.

"Al?" he asked softly. "You asleep?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"Sound. Like a log"

He made the sort of snoring noises could be a pain in the ass if he slept on his back.

"It's worse when it's for real Jack. Trust me"

"Oh you have the odd snort and snuffle believe me" he muttered.

"But at much lower decibels"

"Not from where I am"

He shifted onto his back and she turned to snuggle against him.

"Since we are not sleeping fancy a game of cards?"

"No. You cheat Al"

"Only in strip poker" she kissed his neck. "And with certain opponents"

"Oh yeah? Who are the others then?" he muttered.

"Only you now of course. I love you Jack"

"I know" he sighed wrapping his other arm round her. "And I plan to be around a long time to hear you say that"

_**To be continued…**_


	24. Chapter 24

**Wednesday 3****rd**** December**

_**Linden Avenue, Elizabeth, New Jersey**_

Logan halted his Mercury at the kerb and sat a moment as Goren shuffled some papers back into his folder they had collected copies of from the local cops. The disappearance of and later, the finding of the body of Janet Kay with all that went around that, made her seem to be the first of the victims. The delay in them getting notification any sooner from Jersey, one of those things can happen in any large organisation.

Detective Truman, the junior officer working the case, had been away sick with chicken pox, so only just got back to see the e–mail from Captain Ross of _Major Case_ in New York. And it didn't take a genius to work out his older partner had been a mixture of too idle to check it out, still convinced Byron Kay murdered his wife or perhaps, since all the other examples mentioned were in New York, took it for granted it was not a _"fit"._

At the door of the pleasant property in one of the better districts Mrs Kay, wife of Professor Kay, who taught would-be teachers at Kean University, greeted them. Their son had more or less moved back in with them since it all happened and in the hall, though she offered them refreshments, they also got something of a lecture. That they had better be there to do more than try to get Byron to confess to killing Jan and harassing him.

She stuck with them when they went into the neat parlour and Goren left it to Mike to explain to the man why they were there. It gave him chance to glance around and see some things confirmed the impression they were looking at a broken one. One who had lost maybe thirty pounds since his wedding photograph on the side taken eighteen months ago. One who was close to using up his sick leave from a High School in the next county, where he was by all report a well-regarded and gifted teacher of English and Drama. And one who, judging from a faint smell lingering in the room, was drinking too much and mixing that with prescribed medication.

Goren saw an empty bottle of _Zanex _in the whicker trash basket when he sat down and he knew that route of despair, emotional exhaustion and the sense the foundation of your whole life had slipped away, only too well. He had been there himself. He said nothing as Mike Logan who could be very "_soothing"_ when he chose to be and often very effective because of it, asked Byron to tell it again.

"It was June" he said. "First day after school finished for the summer…Monday 24th June. I was finally going to start on some work in the garden of our house…that's over in Lakeview Drive near the Kean Campus"

"Quite a few of the bushes were big and a couple dead so Byron…"

"Mom?" he sighed like a guy had her talk too much _"for him"_ of late.

"That was right though. Before that Jan and I lived in an apartment…but I guess you know…you know she was fifteen weeks pregnant, so we wanted a yard" he paused thinking of what had been a double loss.

"We needed a few groceries and I asked Jan to go to the mall, not to the local store, to the hardware warehouse and get some tools I could use"

"Including a pruning saw?" asked Mike.

They knew that was the murder weapon.

"I think that was her idea. Some of the branches were too thick for the pruning clippers she was using…Jan was the gardener. I asked her to get an axe to get through the roots of a dead bush I was trying to dig out and one of those incinerator things to burn the debris later. She left around ten, I guess, in my car"

"Your car?" frowned Logan.

"Yes well it wasn't so much mine. Just the Saturn was the car I mostly used. I'd loaded it with a lot of files and boxes end of the semester. I guess it was easier as it was on the end of the drive because Jan didn't use the little old Honda every day"

Goren saw Mike make a mental note to ask about that later, given something they discussed on the way over from the local precinct.

"And what time did you raise the alarm Byron?"

He snorted bitterly. "That was my first mistake as far as that cop DiMarco was concerned. It was around eleven thirty when I realised she ought to be back. Saw her cell in the kitchen so I wondered if maybe she had car trouble or something, though the sedan had not been a problem. I got in the Honda, went down to the mall via the route she would have used. Found no sign of her or the car"

According to the statement Kay made at the time, he then called Jan's Mom on his wife's cell, but got cut off almost immediately and realised the battery was dead. So drove there, by which time she had gone out. Called his Mom from a payphone and then went there to try three or four other places it was possible his wife might have gone. So it was almost one thirty before he called the cops to report his wife missing.

It was to prove his biggest problem. Because a neighbour saw him leave in the Honda and he had no solid alibi for himself until about twelve forty five when he arrived in Linden Avenue. DiMarco was still of the view in that time he met up with his wife, got into an argument, stabbed her and stashed the body and the car. And one had to assume bloody clothes. Then, when the family began to turn out and scour the neighbourhood looking for her and pasting posters over the next few days, he managed to slip away to dispose of the body and the car.

The house in Lakeview Drive tested negative for any blood as did all his clothes, but by then he would have had chance to make sure of that. Because it took the family and Byron close to a week to get the police to treat it as a possible abduction, not the _"domestic squabble"_ caused Jan Kay to go stay with a friend or something. By then her credit card showed she bought the things agreed at the hardware store one of which, the pruning saw, was later to be identified as the murder weapon. No one saw her abducted in the huge parking lot of the mall, but as Truman said it was not covered by cameras and the first Monday of the school vacation was probably packed with rowdy kids and parents.

"I see your wife worked for _Datatech Solutions_" said Mike "Is that why she didn't use the Honda much? Says here she worked from home some days"

"That and a lot of their work is in Manhattan. She'd take public transport over there and if they were on more than one site get a cab. Jan was a supervisor"

"And you never went to Laurence township?" asked Goren.

"He told the other cops that!" snorted Mrs Kay "And when the hell…excuse me…heck do you think he had the time to go find a spot under a bridge of the I-95? After Janet vanished I doubt he was away from us or her folks or the people looking for her long enough to go dump her body. And how did he get the car where that was found?"

His wife had not been found until almost the end of August. When Highway Engineers doing a check on the supports under the on/off ramps stumbled across what was later identified forensically as Janet Kay. With the pruning saw stuck in her belly. Time of death based on what was left, fit with the time of her disappearance and the analysis of the soil showed it had been there during the time it rotted, decayed in the heat of summer and was chewed on by things like rats.

But why it fit, why Truman called, was that the Saturn had turned up earlier in August. In the corner of a cornfield a farmer went to harvest. Right up in the far north of New Jersey near Montague. And those two place names rang a distant bell for him when he read the memo from Major Case in New York.

"So why your interest?" asked Kay.

"You're an English and drama grad sir" said Goren gently. "A young woman stabbed, found in an enclosed structure…a cell like space…in a place called Lawrence. I guess you know your Shakespeare. Friar Lawrence?"

"Oh my God!" breathed Kay. "You are thinking of Juliet. Dies that way in burial vault…stabs herself when she realises Romeo is dead. But she was a …Romeo was…oh god…Romeo was from the Montague family…but I still…"

"Mr Kay…Byron" said Mike. "We think Jan might have been the first of a series of murders that occurred in ways fit a play by Shakespeare"

"And because I'm a drama teacher you think I did the rest!" he jumped from his chair in a panic.

It took several minutes for Logan and Goren to re-assure him and his mother that was not it. If anything the two of them had even speculated if Kay might have been at risk himself. He would be the obvious _"Romeo"_ to his late wife's _"Juliet"_ but with his Mom threatening to ring the Professor and their lawyer, they took some persuading.

And at one point as they explained and Mike primarily led on the questions, Goren changed his mind about the coffee and went to _"help"_ Vera Kay make it in the kitchen. They both sensed there was something Byron was reluctant to say with her around. The look between the two of them as _"natural"_ as the sort Eames might have given him to get him to do something she had a name for when they were interviewing a witness or suspect.

Eames called it _"How Bobby helping can sometimes double the time anything takes"._ And between his distractions to Mrs Kay in the kitchen about cookies she was baking and the make of their dishwasher as he and his partner were looking to replace theirs, Mike got an answer.

Just as well. The Kay's had a large ginger cat that took a liking to Goren; he was allergic to them and ended up almost being chased round the kitchen by an affectionate _Timmy Tiptoes_.

_**To be continued…**_


	25. Chapter 25

**Wednesday 3****rd**** December**

_**Urology Department, Mount Sinai Hospital, Fifth Avenue**_

Eames knew that might be the region of the anatomy that was relevant though she could not but think it an _"unpleasant name"_ for the speciality. She sat beside Jack trying to take in what Dr Shah was saying. The gobbledegook of something called _"AFP alpha 1 feto protein"_ which was _"bad"_ because it was in his blood and indicated testicular cancer.

Trying to sift that with the _"good news"._ That though the lump the ultrasound found on the left one was solid and almost certain to be cancerous, that it was small. No certainty the disease had not spread yet and perhaps better, the right one was absolutely fine. That there would need to be a CT scan to check over the rest of him, given his age and previous history as a reformed smoker. But they would extract Jack's left testicle next week via his lower abdomen and remove it.

Shah then went on to confirm a lot of what they already knew. Like it should not affect his sexual function long term or his fertility given the _"sample"_ that had been analysed indicated a range _"well within normal"_. Whether knowing his sperm count and motility was _"good for his age"_ was any consolation to McCoy, Eames had no idea.

Whatever they did or did not do about that in the future, there would be no future that mattered unless he was alive. That was her priority and Jack had seemed to understand. That after acting as surrogate for her sister she really did not want to go down the Petrie dish route again. Even if that was their only option. For something neither was really sure they wanted anyway.

_**"McDonald's", North Avenue, Elizabeth, New Jersey**_

"Blurgh gno" sounded Goren between blowing his nose as Logan suddenly turned into the parking lot and thinking he was stopping for food.

"Get out of the car!" Mike ordered him.

"Snobby" he snuffled. "It will wear off"

"Maybe it will" Logan opened the door "And your sniffing is not the only reason I stopped. Now get out Bobby"

He did as he was told. Logan went to the trunk or what Wheeler sometimes referred to as _"the pit"_ given the volume and nature of what her partner kept in their official vehicle. She once claimed he must be living out of the thing and that finding any of the official equipment and kit they carried, was close to impossible. An occasion at _Roark's_ where Eames, who was much on Goren's mind that morning, said she'd get Bobby to tidy it for them. And how even a speck of dirt on the carpet in the back of their SUV, gave him palpitations.

"Here. Catch!"

Logan tossed him a brush to remove the lingering cat hair on the cuffs of his pants. With most of _Timmy Tiptoes'_ sneeze inducing fluff removed, Goren got back inside. What Logan had mostly stopped for was a file he had in the trunk.

"Now then" he said opening it. "Those of us mere mortals without a photographic memory need this"

"What's that?" asked Goren putting away his handkerchief.

"A copy of the Lessiter file. I took it home last night. Like a good boy to do my homework as Huang wanted for this inventory he's drawing up" Logan muttered. "Its only a vicious rumour Meg puts around that she does all the thinking in our partnership"

"That's the least of them" said Goren. "And I think I know where you are going. You are wondering if Byron Kay was the father of Ann Lessiter's miscarried baby"

The stunning piece of news they both realised Byron had been unwilling to say in front of his mother, was he had not just briefly known one of the other victims, but had a drunken one time, sex thing with her. When he returned from working for two years overseas Kay had, for one semester, taught at Baruch High School in Manhattan. Where at that time, Ann Lessiter was a teacher. Got to know each other via a sketch review show the sophomore and junior grades did just before Christmas. She had helped out with that, as had staff from other faculties.

"Now then" said Mike "Let's see. She was eighteen weeks almost exactly when she had the miscarriage on March thirtieth zero six…give me that calendar in your folder"

Goren removed it from the pocket and turned it to the one for 05/06 "I can count backwards same as you"

"Second of December" he said proving it.

"Doesn't work" muttered Logan. "He's says their last night of the show bang in the stationary store or wherever they did it, was the fifteenth or sixteenth"

"Yes it does Mike. They count the weeks of gestation from the first day of the last menstruation. That would make it highly likely Byron could have been the father…it assumes ovulation is…"

"Never mind the hormonal ifs and buts" Logan interrupted. "And trust you to know that Goren. Now thing is, Byron tells me they were not totally stupid. He used a rubber but it split and Ann said it would be okay. So he assumed she was fixed some other way and that he wasn't at great risk of sexually transmitted disease with Ann."

"Do you know if she and Kevin were trying for a family? Only if they were, surely she would not take that risk? Get the morning after pill if necessary"

"Don't ask me" shrugged Logan. "Ask a woman how their minds work. Fact she ended up pregnant was a real surprise to Byron because time she would know, he'd moved on, to the job in Jersey he's doing now. Says he never saw her again and of course he did not want his Mom to know he'd got too much wine inside him and done the dirty with a woman he knew was married"

"No way of ever knowing now and no wonder he looked worse when Vera and I came in with the coffee" said Goren. "And does it matter? Mike? You sure this is not just your problem with Bernie Lessiter? And the fact Ann was white and cop connected, meaning a search got mounted for her within about an hour?"

Logan glanced at him "A little maybe Bobby. And you telling me that might not have been a factor in how slow NJ were? It wasn't until they took in the Kay's were middle class and through the Prof a little connected themselves, they did much to take Janet's disappearance seriously. And then seemed to put more effort into proving the husband did it"

Goren sighed "No. And I take your point this is the only connection we found so far between any victims"

"I'm taking yours Bobby from yesterday" Mike said, "If these were murders to cover one or maybe two, this is the only motive for any of them we turned up so far. Byron had none to kill his wife over an affair. He didn't even meet her until a month after the thing with Ann. But if Kevin eventually found out they even had sex that gives him motive. To be rid of his unfaithful wife. And by the way Megan tells me it was adultery, at least alleged, was what got that Queen Anne's head cut off"

"Another motive being to exact revenge on Byron Kay. So why kill his wife…unless it was just to make him suffer?" Goren doodled on his pad. "And then there's the car thing. He usually drove that car. If I was looking for chance to kill him, knew the car but never saw who drove it out that day…expected Byron to get out of it at the mall…by then…I'm not sure"

Logan chuckled "You know Goren I really get a kick out of watching you suffer"

"Cat allergy is not funny"

"I mean watching you have to play the _"hold on there a minute"_ sceptic. While I'm the one having the sort of flights of imagination make you so popular with Ross. And, I hate to say it, also very good at your job"

"That's not funny either" Goren muttered. "You know? The whole staging thing? Where she and the car were found? Byron is an English and drama teacher…he saw the parallel with his wife right away once we pointed it out. Who better to…how about if the wife was killed on purpose? To set him up? Except if you did that, the thing to do would be to plant evidence the local cops singularly failed to find…what's so funny now?"

Logan started the engine "I was just thinking how much our Captain is going to love hearing this. Rock, paper, scissors for who tells him? Best of three?"

"No. I need to check my gun is loaded"

"What for?" enquired Mike waiting on traffic at the exit.

"To do what a lot of people will suggest we should do if we start alleging a cop, one whose uncle just happens to be a District Commander, did all this. Or did you forget that?"

"I was trying to" growled Logan.

Ninety minutes later having listened kindly and sympathetically to the news Alex Eames gave him, Danny Ross could be heard across the whole of the Major Case Squad Room. Even with his office door shut. And some of the adjectives were ones would make a sailor blush. But Goren and Logan emerged with a little grin between them; despite the kind of verbal ass kicking they took to reach that point.

_**To be continued…**_


	26. Chapter 26

**Wednesday 3****rd**** December**

_**The Conference Room, Floor Eleven, 1PP**_

Eames and Goren had ducked in there as the first chance for a private word since he got back from New Jersey with Logan. It was nothing work related they had been speaking of and mostly he had listened to what she had to say. Sensing at times Eames was checking out his face. To see if it was registering the sort of positive reaction it should to what she was saying as _"good news"_ about Jack's diagnosis so far.

Goren was no expert, but his own experience with his Mom's leukaemia possibly made him better informed than many. And he would not have been comfortable enquiring any more into some of the issues she skirted around, even had he sensed any encouragement from Eames she wanted to pour them all out to him. That was not the way things had ever been between them.

She had not used him as a _"sounding board"_ through her thinking and decision making to act as a surrogate until it was a done deal. And he had certainly not shared much of his doubts and fears in relation to his Mom and other things.

"You do know?" he said. "If there's anything Caro and I can do? We're not so far away. You will say Alex?"

"Yes I will Bobby but right now I just need to keep my head in the job"

"Okay" he said.

"What can I do to help you meet this deadline Ross has given you and Mike to come up with more than theory on Kevin Lessiter?"

The Captain might have been willing to shift some other work around to free them, but they gathered he'd had a hell of a time persuading Dick Nichols to run with this idea of Huang's and not opt for a chaotic trawl through potential theatrical psychopaths or the briefing of the media. The Chief of Detectives could see why it could not all be tidied away around Antony Brown either, but he was not known for his patience.

Since Kevin Lessiter was never seen as a suspect and was in any case very well alibied for the time of his own wife's death, there had not been a lot of investigation into his background. And when Brown or more especially the murder weapon for Ann and other evidence of his involvement turned up, he was even less on the radar. Still would not be, but for Detective Truman getting over the chicken pox.

But given the obvious sensitivities of him being a cop and still possibly an innocent _"victim"_ Ross had given the two of them until that evening to come up with more than just motive. And one they had only Byron Kay's word for. And no proof Kevin Lessiter ever knew what happened. Never mind the fact if he did, the man who cuckolded him, to use a phrase Shakespeare would have known, was still alive and kicking.

"Could you do a bit more checking about Ann Lessiter? Specifically at Baruch High School where she worked with Byron?"

"Sure. Where you going Goren?"

"To use up a few favours in Personnel"

"Just try keeping your pants on this time" his partner called after him.

Eames left with a little smile to herself. It was no secret though he went about more subtly than some, that over the years Bobby had dated, for varying lengths of time, maybe half a dozen female civilian staff at 1PP. Never a female cop and it was more or less known that wearing a badge was like wearing a wedding band in terms of its effect on his interest. There was no evidence or gossip that Goren ever went either of those places.

But as smart, single guy Bobby had also quietly flirted or cultivated other ways, what Eames thought of as a small _"fan club"_ of female contacts throughout the building. Or in some cases they had volunteered themselves. Not all of them young women, but also older ones knew a little of his past troubles and had a maternal attitude towards him. A bra-wearing network would do him favours if Goren turned on the _"charm"_ he either knew he had and used or was naively unaware of.

Eames was never sure which it was and even though he had now been with Caro for almost two years, it did not seem to have depleted their ranks. Not even of the faction had ambitions below Goren's belt line. So she guessed he might be heading for someone like young Sally down in Personnel. Not so young these days but still with a _"crush"_ sufficient she would allow Goren into sections of the records not illegal, but not totally proper for him to be in. But then Ross had not given them time for the proper authorisations would be necessary.

_**The Carter Clinic, East 82**__**nd**__** Street**_

Eames had no idea what Goren did to discover that Kevin Lessiter had claimed on the NYPD medical fund in April. For a service provided at the place she had halted the SUV outside. But it only took a few minutes and the net to discover it was the type of facility did basic screening tests. Very popular these days with people for all sorts of reasons and with medical insurance companies.

And one service that jumped off the screen was fertility testing. As Eames had said to her partner, having lost a baby they wanted, the Lessiter's had gone a long time since the miscarriage without conceiving again and there was nothing in the medical records to indicate she had a problem. Put that with Byron as a possible for that baby's father and it made you wonder.

Goren followed her inside knowing this was an occasion to just act dumb or follow her lead.

"Oh hi there" she smiled at the girl on reception in a medical type uniform. "I'm Alex and this is my partner Bobby. Wonder if you can help us?"

"That's what we are here for ma'am"

Eames leaned in closer over the desk "It's about um…fertility testing…we don't seem to be hitting the jackpot after six months and we're pretty sure we are doing it right"

"You would like to book a screening for both of you?"

"Not really. You see I have a young daughter and last couple of months I've used one of those ovulation kits I'm told are pretty reliable and I'm regular. It's him"

She gestured like he wasn't there and Goren tried to look suitably embarrassed. Not so difficult really.

"Before we start on the more complicated business for me I thought it might be a good idea to get his army checked out. Not like it's a hardship for a guy to do and if we know he's got the manpower and they quick march, we eliminated one obvious problem"

"You can do it now sir if you'd like"

As she reached under the counter Goren almost expected a little jar to emerge, but instead out came a form and a leaflet.

"You'll need to read all this first, sign the forms and of course pay for the result will be with you in three days"

"We can't do that right now" said Eames taking the papers. "I have to get back to work. I'm a cop and he's due to collect my daughter from day care soon. I understand you are NYPD medical scheme approved. A buddy of mine used this place back in April"

"Yes we are Officer"

"And…and I see you have no tariff on display. He said it cost him around eighty bucks plus change"

The girl thought a second "A basic count and motility test would have done in April" she even checked back to an old file. "But outside lab charges…you understand…the cost now is eighty seven including tax"

"Not a problem" Eames leaned over the counter again. "Does this leaflet explain…about doing it at home…only I'm not sure he could…you know…pressure of time and a strange place"

"A lot of men can't" hissed the girl with a smile at him. "Yes it's all in there. See you soon I expect"

"Could be" said Eames.

Out on the sidewalk she handed him the literature.

"I could see the old charge list Goren. That was the only service listed at the cost Lessiter claimed"

"We can always get a warrant for the result later Eames, but it's something to go on. School's out" he added shoving the paper in his overcoat pocket and getting in the SUV.

"Uhuh. Time to go see this Mrs Dawson at the High School. South on Lexington?"

"Hmm?"

"Was that a yes?"

"Yes. Sorry"

Goren flicked through his folder.

"What other piece of circumstantial evidence did you remember?" Eames asked with a grin. "I know that folder flip and look too well"

"Guess you do. I was just checking the dates…um not for the pregnancy thing…oh yeah"

"What?"

"Those two broken ribs Ann Lessiter got in April? The fall down the stairs? That was twelve days after Kevin underwent a procedure at the clinic"

Eames turned the car at the next junction "You're thinking if he found out…he had a problem…that's when he worked out the baby wasn't his…came up with Byron as someone she was seeing a lot of after hours. You think he hit her?"

"One possibility though there is no history of injuries on her medical records"

"Smart wife beaters know not to leave obvious bruises or go too far. You know that"

"Yes though would he…um…I have no sense of this man for myself with that case going to Mike over the holiday"

"You will Friday. And that's what's bugging you right now. The fact we've had to divide our efforts to meet this deadline and it did make sense for Mike and Megs to handle the Kevin side of the picture"

"I know"

"I know something else too Bobby"

"What's that?"

"I'll miss your folder hugging when the time comes" Eames said quietly.

_**To be continued…**_


	27. Chapter 27

**Wednesday 3****rd**** December**

_**Visiting Officer's Room 1, Major Case Squad**_

The four of them were well into overtime they were unlikely to get paid as Logan took a call they soon realised was from Finn Tutuola. Even after the events of her day Eames had not gone home yet, despite Goren's private encouragement and both of them had made _the "I'm going to be late"_ calls some time earlier.

Empty cartons of Chinese food they decided to send out for, sat amid papers on the table as Megan drew up a list of the things they had found out and Goren one of what still needed to be done. Five minutes after the deadline Ross gave them, he returned from wherever he had been since he left his office.

He shut the door behind him and pulled up an extra chair to the end of the table.

"Fact you are all still here tells me you did not strike out yet. Please tell me you've got proof"

"I wouldn't call it that" said Eames "But checking his shift logs we make Kevin Lessiter with opportunity for the broad timeframe for most of the murders. Except Janet Kay and the one of his wife, of course. And her death means a lot of his likely alibi claims died with her"

"And I expect if you checked mine you might find the same" shrugged Ross. "Maybe the Chief of Police too"

"Except you don't have motive" said Logan after thanking Finn and ending the call.

"You're still on this wronged husband and possible paternity one I heard some talk of earlier?"

"The only one we came up with so far" said Megan. "But we can now back it with a teacher at Baruch who will say she saw evidence of Lessiter's behaviour around that time. His resentment of the time Ann was spending on the play, his regular calls about when she would be home and whilst it's only hearsay, she claims after she lost the baby it was Kevin pressured Ann to switch her job. For one nearer home and to not consider a promoted post she would have been a shoe in for"

"Concerned husband thought that might have contributed to what happened. Wanted her to take things easier, have less stress" suggested Ross.

"Could be or could be he was a pretty controlling son of a..." muttered Logan. "We got similar comments from three or four former or current co-workers. And even her family from Minneapolis said the same before we had any motive for him. Been like that since the day they got married and if you saw the way his old man is with his Mom, you'd see where he learned that"

"What about his record?"

"Distinctly below average" said Goren who had sections of that file in front of him.

"Go on Bobby"

"Informal warnings about _'ghosting'_ for which his former partner eventually got canned and after a couple of complaints, he got sent on a race and gender equality refresher course"

'_Ghosting'_ was the ability of cops out on patrol to park up, hide out or sit in a diner when their shift supervisor was led to believe, via radio reports they were doing what they should be or responding to a member of the public. Looking for a temporarily lost kid or discovering a confused and bewildered senior, were just two popular examples. It needed two of you to work it and it was possible his partner led Lessiter astray.

"Annual reviews generally say must try harder" Goren shrugged. "Basically lazy but thinks a lot of himself and I suspect Uncle Lessiter used his position to get the shift sergeant to put him forward for the selection last fall"

He handed the file over which showed nothing would support such a recommendation, but the slip was duly signed.

Ross looked up "Which Kevin failed I see"

"Which might well contribute to his motive" said Wheeler.

The Captain had his _'sceptical'_ face on. "I suppose you are going to tell me that adds to his rage or something Megan. Or it's a parallel to his assumed fertility problem Bobby?"

The two of them glanced across the table at each other.

"Look I'm as much as a pragmatist as you boss" said Logan. "But look at it this way. He's got a bigot for an old man who sees the fact he took years to make foreman at the furniture factory, as some sort of minority plot. While his brother is on first name terms and playing golf with, the Brooklyn Borough President. Kevin is the only boy with three sisters I've seen with my own eyes is regarded like more of a prince than any Italian Momma worships her boy…"

"Do people still think that way?" snorted Ross.

"You tell us boss" shrugged Eames. "You're the one with two sons"

Logan gave her wink and went on.

"He marries something of a still provincial mouse who then turns out to be very good at her job. Gets an award, as one of the new teachers of the year when she starts out, get's a promoted post in a faculty at a prestigious High School. The belief is they had been trying for a kid for a year when Ann got pregnant"

"She was eclipsing him in career terms" said Goren. "Soon she would have been earning more money than him. That's when his controlling behaviour began to get more marked…more chauvinistic…and then if he discovers the kid could not have been his, he's not just mad, he's emasculated. And if we are right and there is something of a well hidden racist below the surface…"

"And he kills, apart from Janet Kay and Antony Brown, five other people to hide the murder of his wife and the one he's planning of the guy he found out or assumed might have been her lover?" muttered Ross. "Not forgetting maybe proving himself in some way. Well Bobby? It's late. Don't hold out on me with the rest. Let me go off to my bed with a smile on my face"

Goren fiddled with his pencil "Okay then. Maybe the aim in recruiting Brown was to have a black man part of the picture. So when he eventually killed Byron Kay, planted evidence on him, made it look like a suicide, it would look like him all along"

"Tell me you're joking"

"No. Since Janet Kay was killed Byron has been more or less living with his parents. Not so easy to get at or get access to. Remember he is a Lit grad, would know Shakespeare. If Janet was Juliet, the order of the deaths is wrong. Romeo dies first. Takes poison because he thinks she's dead. Then seeing him dead she stabs herself. This way, whether it's just chance or deliberate, Kay gets to suffer for longer and if this idea is right, he will eventually become a victim. Once the attention is off Kevin"

"Something else sir" said Eames. "We worked out there's time unaccounted for the day Ann Lessiter went missing. Kevin was still on duty at the Thanksgiving parade when he got word his father reported her missing"

"That's the cop grapevine for you"

"Yes it is" said Logan. "But _'check out on time Lessiter'_ does not take up the offer to relieve him. He sticks to his duty the very day his wife goes missing. But it's almost two hours when he's done before he shows up at home. According to Kevin he got held up in traffic, was driving round himself looking and talking to his old man on the phone but we only have his word for that until we can get the phone logs"

Ross glanced round the table "You think that's when he killed and dumped Brown? Leaving all the evidence he planned to plant on Byron Kay at his place"

"That was probably an accident" said Mike "I was just speaking to Finn who has been doing some checking on the ground among his old contacts, same as Jorge. We now have two people identified a picture of Kevin in civilian clothes as a guy they saw waiting around the corner for Antony Brown. The day when Brown bought a great deal of GHB up in the Bronx"

"Now we are getting somewhere" said Ross.

_**To be continued…**_


	28. Chapter 28

**Thursday 4****th**** December**

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich Village**_

It was on the tip of Goren's tongue to tell Caro not to go up those steps as they tackled the removal of the old and brown wallpaper, in what was going to be their dining room. Until he remembered what she said a couple of weeks ago when she was doing something on them. How she was pregnant, not _"ill"_ and how if she was to fall off or down anything, it was more likely to be one of the flights of stairs in the house or at work or the subway.

If that was meant as consolation to him it singularly failed. But after the day they had, there was something _"therapeutic"_ in a job like that, if frustrating at times. They had already discovered in a spot near the door that under the top layer there was paint and below that paper as at various times different decorators had not stripped back to the plaster.

The strata he was steaming and scraping his way through put Goren in mind of the layers of information they had built up about Kevin Lessiter through the day. The trouble with the most damning evidence was that dealers with gang connections supplied it. They did not know the man they picked out was a cop but as Teresa Randle had pointed out, even if they did ID him in a line up, their credibility as witnesses in court would not be great. By the time they got there it would probably come out that Finn Tutuola had let go a guy lifted with a stash to encourage his co-operation on Antony Brown.

But the more they found out, the more it made sense. Even what might have acted as the _"final straw"_ to Kevin Lessiter. When they discovered that one of the contracts _"Datatech Solutions"_ had fulfilled was to put onto the database some old files in several Manhattan precincts. Including that of the 18th where Lessiter was based. Janet Kay, as a supervisor, was making regular visits to their staff working at the station. Covering the period of time he was possibly discovering problems with his fertility and she was making public the fact of her own pregnancy. It was supposition, but perhaps that was when he made the link to a former co-worker Ann had spent a lot of time with and how he might have tracked Byron Kay down.

Though there again, as a cop he had legitimate access to a number of databases in the course of his work to help him establish certain facts about his possible victims. Like the car the Rollins couple on Staten Island owned and the home address of Julius Mainwairing, on the system as one of the key holders to commercial premises should the alarm ring or the police ever need to contact him. But for every way you could make the argument that Lessiter being a cop enabled him to do things, either Teresa or Ross were offering the kinds of plausible explanations would come out in court.

One of those related to a sighting of what _"might have been a cop"_ going down the stairs near Arthur Willard's apartment the Friday/Saturday he was probably killed. He and Eames had dismissed it. You would. There were dozens of apartments in that block and the neighbour who said that assumed, like them, it was a local precinct officer about his normal duties.

But they were all agreed the sort of person might have got two elderly men to open their door or maybe Mrs Rollins on Staten Island hers, was a guy not just dressed like a police officer, but someone who actually was one. The one frustration was they had yet to track down how on earth or how Lessiter might have come across or recruited Brown. And for the time being, did not want to risk alerting Lessiter he was a suspect by speaking to his partner or other officers at the 18th station house.

As they all knew he might not be _"Officer of the Year"_ but he still wore blue and ranks might do more than close. If he got a hint he was being investigated, he would try to destroy any evidence there might be. They also wanted to see his reaction when they sprang a surprise on him tomorrow, though George Huang and Megan who had gone to New Jersey to persuade and _"coach"_ Byron Kay and his parents, were not sure how well they could play the part or hold up.

As their phone began to ring Caro got down to go answer the one in the hall.

"It will be your mother" Goren said to tease her after various calls in recent days from Eileen about what she should bring for Christmas.

How she was going to transport it all in their luggage who could say and at one point, Caro herself had suggested they might as well just go to Virginia at this rate. She stopped on her way through and gave him a quick kiss.

"So long as its not work Rob. Yours or mine"

"If it's mine tell them I'll go right in" he called after her "Anything is better than this"

He gathered from what he could hear it was Alex and Goren could guess why. The two smart women in his life had been assigned to Kevin Lessiter tomorrow. They would either be together or separately in each session he was part of during this _"group interview"_ Huang had set up. The inventory adapted to press particularly sensitive areas with Lessiter at times.

As the most experienced woman in the group of psychiatrists and psychologists at Bellevue where the session would occur, Caro was the obvious choice. Though Goren would not deny as he attacked the section of wall again, he had mixed feelings about it all. Typical how a call started about work suddenly seemed to switch onto the subject of Christmas trees and then back with barely a pause. There was something about the way the minds of women worked he had never understood. And was not sure he wanted to.

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

Eames snorted at the improbability of the cop show she was watching on TV and glanced at Jack stretched out on the sofa with papers in his lap.

He looked up over his reading glasses "Why do you watch it if it makes you so mad Al?"

"Because the young detective is _tongue hit the floor_ gorgeous"

"I wish I never asked now" he muttered.

It was not totally true. As much absorbed for tomorrow as she could and the conversation with Caro about trees and the inventory done, Eames was too tired to do any minor chores and the TV helped stop her thoughts. Those bad ones and ones of occasional panic when she looked at McCoy. That on Monday that CT scanner would find cancer lurking in many parts of his body. The sort would make for long and horrible treatment and with poor prognosis.

Thoughts she kept to herself and would do, especially on the night he was only working this late because of the time he was on the telephone to Julie up in New Haven. Trying to re-assure the daughter he was almost estranged from for some years and only in the last five, re-building a real relationship with. That so far things did look to be _"good",_ that he would be fine and little Dawn would have her grandpapa for a lot of years.

It had been hard on Jack, but he'd made the decision to put out a simple press release saying he had a diagnosis of testicular cancer and Ron Carver would stand in when necessary. Carver had known since Tuesday and Jack had told the rest of the senior staff that afternoon. Eames knew he didn't trust all of them to maintain confidentiality and that was one of the downsides to dating _"a public figure"._

As McCoy swore he'd only be a _"little while now Al"_ and signed something else before tossing it on a side table, Eames wondered what Bernie Lessiter thought he would achieve over the weekend by that coverage of Ann's death_. A few bucks or just chance to vent his intolerance? _And to suppose anything more did make you start to sound like John Munch. But as Logan said, looked at another way Lessiter senior's behaviour on Thanksgiving was strange.

How quickly Bernie reported Ann as _"missing",_ how rapidly even his brother out in Thailand got dragged in and all when his son was very firmly and publicly alibied at the Thanksgiving Parade. Quite probably if they checked TV footage they would see him there. And then there were the other things that had emerged through the day.

That new looking axe used to kill Ann of a design the makers had introduced only in February. Hundreds sold across the TriState area since and impossible to trace a particular one. But a check in New Jersey showed it was exactly the same type from a choice of about six, that Janet Kay bought the day she vanished. It was not found with the Saturn or her body. But then neither were all the other items she bought that fateful day. Meant not a lot at the time, but even Ross found that _"a curious co-incidence"._

The fact Lessiter did not know yet they had linked in the Janet Kay death was working in their favour, but as a cop he must have guessed they would have seen some sort of pattern by now. Unless that was what Bobby speculated was a sign of his arrogance mixed with stupidity. The sort of stupidity might ultimately be revealed

When they went back to Julius Mainwairing's meticulous sales records they found _"Byron Kay"_ as the cash buyer of a book he called first to reserve. One of course he did not own. Kay had come close to flunking a compulsory history element in college, never mind ever buying a book on _"The Indian Rebellion of 1857"._ But it established what appeared to be a connection between them. And if that book turned up anywhere near Lessiter, it would prove to be a huge mistake.

As Bobby might say, puzzle pieces were starting to fall into place and even Ross and Dick Nichols had played their parts in the drama developing. By keeping IAD _"in the dark"_ for the time being, though if Danny Ross had his way that's how it would stay.

"What?" Eames startled.

"I said did you work out who done it yet and do you fancy a drink?" said Jack.

_**To be continued…**_


	29. Chapter 29

**Friday 5****th**** December**

_**Office Of The Captain, Major Case**_

Ross had summoned Goren with what might be _"bad news"._

"I just spoke to Liz Rogers. It may not change too much but she's been looking at recent patterns of heroin overdose across the city. Both fatal and those got to hospital in time"

"And she found a cluster" said Goren.

He knew from his days in Narco how that happened. A batch of contaminated or wrongly _"cut"_ drugs like cocaine and illicitly produced heroin and you could get a spate of incidents. Often geographically grouped around areas with a lot of users living there but also with _"isolates"._ People who lived and died elsewhere, but who through work or social links, had dealers in common.

"Uhuh. And there's a grouping up in West Tremont and a few others. Your former colleagues based on who, think they've got it narrowed down to one of three dealers up there. One of whom Antony Brown ran with when he used before"

Ross got up to get himself coffee "The chemistry fits too so I think we can forget the idea Brown was deliberately overdosed to be rid of him"

"Just got unlucky with the smack he bought. I don't think we ever seriously thought Lessiter supplied that heroin"

"Must have got a nasty surprise if Brown died on him" the Captain muttered. "Think he then panicked? I read what you said about the confused and contradictory staging of the body Bobby"

"Should have left Brown where he fell. The moment he was staged it pointed even more to the second man. And how long would it have been before someone bothered to search the apartment of yet another dead heroin addict when they found him in an alley?"

Ross smiled "Got too clever or too fixed on a pattern. That's why you're here Bobby and he's still in uniform at the 18th. And while I got you here, how's Alex doing?"

"Good"

"Don't overwhelm me with opinion will you?" the Captain muttered but not pressing the issue.

That relationship was also a personal one. He was well aware Eames had _"covered"_ in more than one sense for Goren when he went through hard times and as stable and grounded as he seemed to be now, he had to trust to Bobby's judgement to do the same for her. But there was one nagging doubt he had about this case.

"Bobby? The other day and don't take this as criticism…I saw you have a tough time with that bastard Corby. I can see some parallels with this case. If we get to that point I'd like you to tackle Kevin Lessiter. He's got to know Logan and Wheeler a little…you…um you and Alex will be an unknown quantity to throw at him"

"You mean can I get in his head they way I could not with Corby?"

Ross nodded.

"Yes. Yes I can" said Goren softly as he left the room.

_**The Symonds Suite, Bellevue Hospital.**_

The series of rooms were named for a late female psychiatrist at Bellevue and existed for a variety of purposes. As rooms where day patients were sometimes seen for therapy sessions and because they had two-way mirrors and highly sophisticated camera and audio systems, the place where assessments could be undertaken. With the opportunity for students to observe and most of the police present that day had spoken with a traumatised witness or victim there at some point in their career.

It was also a place where some academic experimental work was carried out, especially in the area of social psychology and group dynamic. George Huang also explained how since the focus had subtly shifted so one participant was now a suspect; he'd had to give certain assurances to his and presumably Caro's superiors. And the hospital administration. That the police were not going to use it as a way of getting someone to incriminate himself in the absence of counsel or _MIRANDA _warning.

Logan's body language told you what he thought of Huang's scrupulous ethics. Because Lessiter had expressed if not mild suspicion, some doubt about attending at all, the blinds were to be drawn on the two-way mirrors to help put him at ease. Since no recordings were allowed, they would be relying on the live sound and visual feed to the monitoring station and the fact Eames would be present to hear anything he said.

The cop's reluctance Mike was certain was not because he had any inkling he was under suspicion, but because he was very much playing the line his wife's murder was solved and he wasn't so sure it fit with the others. It had been the determination of the Olsson contingent to attend that changed his mind and Wheeler was of the view that was so he or his father would know if they said anything he needed to worry about. If anything got said to undermine the picture perfect image of the marital relationship they had tried to create. And did not know had been undermined from other sources.

Goren was kept away from even the informal part over coffee as a deliberate strategy. He had no dealings with Kevin so could be _"objective"_ about what he saw. So he was ready in the booth when the groups of family and friends went to the first session.

"You know" he said to Huang as George switched off the monitors to two of the rooms. "I feel kind of guilty about doing this. Like we are using people like Monty Mainwairing, the Regan girl's boyfriend or Willard's friends like lab rats. Under false pretences"

"I can recommend someone for you to talk to about that Bobby" said the shrink as they reached for headphones.

Goren never asked and George never said whom, but they both watched the room Kevin was in with Caro and Alex as Ross delivered and introduced a slightly late arrival. In the form of Byron Kay. Had Lessiter been wearing a blood pressure monitor it would have shot off the scale for a moment. Goren didn't need Huang to tell him some of the nasty surprise and shock body language Kevin showed for a while. It was possible being a cop, Lessiter knew Major Case was investigating a _"Shakespeare Killer"_ pattern _before _his wife died. What was less likely was he knew they had sent the same memo out to New York State and New Jersey.

That's what they had been relying upon and that was what that reaction told them. But almost more interesting was to see an identical reaction from Bernie Lessiter in the next room, when he found himself meeting Professor Wilbur Kay. But they saw it and so did Megan who was riding shotgun in that group.

"You think?" hissed Huang.

Goren shrugged and as Ross and Randle stepped in, scribbled them a note between watching and listening. It meant they were now splitting observation very much between the two groups. More than they expected to.

And over the next almost ninety minutes, there were three or four occasions when one or other Lessiter's were uncomfortable. The way Kevin squirmed visibly when the redoubtable Mrs Kay played her part well. Saying how they had to face the fact since Janet died maybe there was something they did not know. Something she was doing to get her killed. An affair gone wrong or something illicit at work.

Even Byron breaking down and needing Mike to go out with him worked in their favour in a way. It resulted later in Bernie making some tactless remark about how his son was being _"a man"_ about it. Came from stock held itself together which got him told by Willard's son, sent home on compassionate grounds, who probably did pick up his hidden agenda. Left them glad they never considered for one moment having Mrs Brown there or putting the Bunker connections through it.

If he had ethical concerns himself, Goren's conscience was eased a little. It was something of a charade for some of the friends and relatives; but some good for them did come from it. It was clear the Bellevue staff had also worked some agenda of their own. So while the Lessiter's, no surprise, declined ongoing contact, others did not. They seemed to be forming a little support group at the end and it was Eames prevented what might have been a total disaster, though it was also concrete and useful information.

It came from Rabbi Vronsky, one of the chess players from the park. Trouble was he pointed in Kevin's direction and began to say something out loud until she hustled him off to one side.

"Tell my colleagues and Ms Randle from the DA's office what you just told me sir" she said.

"That man" he said "Kevin? De one whose vife got killed? He vas de blond man from the park. Who vent after Arthur that day vith de glasses"

"How can you be sure?" asked Randle

"His hand. Ze right hand. Vat you call this?"

"Knuckle" said Tutuola.

"Ha. See dis? As a young man I got in vun or two fights. Break two knuckles. Him? He also haf that here"

He indicated the flattened lower end of the first two carpal bones on the right hand. The most likely to break if you form a fist and hit something hard.

"Go on" urged Eames.

"Ven he was using de camera? He took off de gloves. I see it very clearly. You notice when you haf the same. And I just remembered. De face vas brown but de hands white. But ven people ski that can happen and vith de jacket…?" he shrugged

They glanced at each other knowing full well Kevin Lessiter was a good fit for the height and weight of _"ski jacket man"._ It was the either very pale or tanned complexion never fit, though they knew theatrical make up had been found on Julius Mainwairing's fingers. And that varying skin tone added to different lighting conditions could change the _"shape"_ of a face never had distinctive features.

"How sure are you Rebbe?" asked Goren since none of the other two chess players present that afternoon said anything.

"As sure as I am you did a gut job of trying to lose ven ve played chess Detective"

It was another tiny clue. The only trouble was the only thing they knew the guy did in the park that day was to offer to run after an elderly man who left his spectacles behind.

They left Randle going to a judge for warrants for Kevin Lessiter's car and home on the basis of testimony from a known drug dealer as their only probable cause. And she was not optimistic she would get his private medical details released or one to serve on the Carter clinic.

At 1PP there was some rapid re-grouping to be done and consultations to be had with IAD.

_**To be continued…**_


	30. Chapter 30

**Friday 5****th**** December**

_**Hewes Street, Williamsburg, Brooklyn**_

After he saw Byron Kay at Bellevue and realised his wife's murder was being seen as part of the pattern, there was no time to waste serving the fairly limited warrant Randle had obtained to search Kevin Lessiter's home. If he did have anything incriminating there he would be quick to dispose of it. Might have done so already in case he was perceived as a suspect for his own wife's killing.

The hood of his Chevy was probably still warm when a convoy of half a dozen vehicles drew up in the street of small houses once home to blue collar workers. The area fast changing to a fashionable one again, with a middle class and _"artistic"_ community. The sort of _"re-gentrification"_ process that seemed to happen more and more to inner city suburbs once abandoned by the more affluent in their dash to the suburbs. Soho, Tribeca and the Village in Manhattan being classic examples.

It was Logan who had travelled in the front of their SUV who had the _"pleasure"_ when the door was opened and the impression Goren got standing back a little and silent, was it came as no surprise. Though as you might expect, Lessiter immediately made contact with the Federation to get himself legal representation and called his father.

As they went through the door pulling on gloves and followed by a search team, Eames reminded him his old man was welcome but would not be allowed inside the property for the duration. Those searching as Logan took control of the effort upstairs, consisted of CSU technicians with specialist equipment and materials to check for things like blood and a contingent from IAD.

Their inclusion served three purposes. The primary allegation against Lessiter was that he was in some way a party to a drug buy from a known felon. That was something IAD would normally deal with, so the warrant included lines about illegal drugs and they were expecting a specialist canine unit to arrive. The dog could even sniff out microscopic residue. It was also a matter of NYPD politics to keep them on board, though Dick Nichols was making it clear that Major Case had primary call. And the third reason was practical.

Once IAD were involved, it opened the doors to them questioning officers at the 18th Precinct. It was more or less standard procedure for any investigation involving an officer and given Lessiter's record, that could result in information and leads in other directions.

Goren had gone into the dining room with Eames, where one side consisted of bookcases and shelves housing primarily volumes must have belonged to Ann. At least those Lessiter had not begun to pack away into boxes.

"Go on" she muttered with a nod to that side. "I can see you are itching Goren. I'll start on the dishes and tablecloths. And no reading"

He glanced along the shelves "Lot of it is Italian. I can just about get through reading a menu and the words for rest room in that"

Eames was lifting out glassware onto the table "Jack was really disappointed they don't seem to have those open air _pissoir _things like they used to in Paris. But then only a man would think that way"

"There were a few left when I first went there, but I think the French got uptight like us and the English and enclosed a lot or replaced them. Think it's only parts of Germany and those uninhibited Scandinavians have anything like that now"

"Which is fine if you are a guy"

"Uhuh"

He finished flicking through one shelf, checking the dust covers matched the volumes inside and turned to the next as Lessiter arrived.

"Are you people mad? Why would I be out buying drugs with…with that Brown man who earlier in the week your pal Logan told me looked good for the murder of my wife?"

"You tell me Officer Lessiter" Goren shrugged like he was a man knew nothing.

"Did you know Brown?" asked Eames.

"No. Least I don't think I do. But then that's the trouble with you 1PP people. Been so long since any of you were on the street you forgot what it's like. See dozens of people every day and deal with them. How would I remember some junkie I maybe just moved on from panhandling a theatre crowd?"

"But you once worked the Bronx didn't you?"

"Yes lady and maybe that's what it is? Some crack head home boy I put away getting his own back"

"Could be" said Goren neutrally as Kevin left for somewhere else.

They were more or less done including furniture checked behind, when the dog arrived at about the same time as Bernie Lessiter.

A glance at his partner told Eames that Goren wanted chance to observe that interaction. Outside, the events had attracted a lot of curtain twitching and people standing on a cold night on their doorsteps to see what was going on. Casually Goren made his way over to the two of them and asked for a cigarette he tried not to inhale too much.

Nicotine was like alcohol to some people. Once you gave it up, which he had done twice now, not even the occasional one was possible. The craving and dependence was set off almost immediately again. He stood and took if not abuse, some well-chosen opinion, from Bernie before he and Kevin persuaded him there was not much he could do by hanging around.

"Quite a turkey cock your old man Kevin"

"Sticks up for his own you mean"

"I guess" Goren took a drag and stubbed out the rest. "Reminds me a bit of my Dad. But he crossed over the line"

"What line?"

"Oh the one between enthusiastic support and bullying. My brother and I were never sure where we stood. One minute he'd be pushing us to exert and assert ourselves and the next, if it did not suit him that day, crushing the life out of our enthusiasms. Controlling us, telling us what to do, putting us down"

He saw the fractional _"tell"_ that hit home as a pattern Kevin knew.

"Harder on my brother I think being the oldest son…all that old fashioned testosterone stuff I think" Goren gave Lessiter a nudge. "You know what some guys are like. The old lady drops a boy and they make out like it proves they must have a bigger set…especially if that's after girls…hey…you got three older sisters don't you?"

"Yeah that makes for…"

It was almost as if Lessiter suddenly realised he was playing into some sort of game as he shut up.

"That looks like your lawyer arriving. Best go or that partner of mine will be out here giving me what for. Got more years in than me, so thinks that gives her the right to bust my chops"

Goren returned to the house where Logan had drawn a blank in the room he had searched with someone from CSU.

"Doesn't look like he's wasting time getting rid of Ann's things" he said. "Most of her clothes are packed up"

"Means nothing Mike" Goren said quietly before responding to a gesture from one of the personnel in the kitchen.

"He's right Mike" said Eames. "I know for a fact it took Bobby months before he could even touch his Mom's things and he knew for a long time she was dying. But when Joe did I cleared out a lot quite fast. It was something to do, not a measure of how much I cared about him"

"I guess so. Sorry Alex" muttered Logan "I just think that we are going to draw a blank here"

"Surprised?"

"No. Looks like Bobby wants a word"

On the back porch the three of them decided to wait on the daylight to look for signs of disturbed ground where something might be buried in the garden. It would mean Lessiter either having to leave or mounting a guard on the place to stop him removing or disposing of evidence. But there was something else on Goren's mind.

"I doubt after this even Kevin is that stupid but I'm worried about Byron Kay"

"What!" snorted Logan "You think he'd go for him?"

"You didn't see the look on his face when Byron walked in Mike. Was like he saw a ghost" advised Eames

"And one you didn't see Eames. When Bernie Lessiter saw him"

"You don't think…"

"Don't know what I think but George saw it too. And Bernie Lessiter is on the loose, out of our control"

"Could see if we can get a surveillance team?" said Eames pulling out her phone.

Logan shook his head. "Kevin might expect that. You know what IAD are like when they get started"

He glanced round as Megan appeared.

"Just got a call from Patrickson" she said. "Kevin's locker at the 18th checked out clear. So much for the theory of hiding incriminating material where the cops would least expect to find it. Maybe there is nothing after all"

"Time to bait a trap I think" said Eames.

"Yeah and I must go" said Goren with a glance at his watch. "Mike? Could you and Alex make sure with NJ the Kay's will be safe tonight?"

"Sure" Logan shrugged then turned to Eames. "What's his rush about? Not like Bobby to quit at a time like this"

_**To be continued…**_


	31. Chapter 31

**Saturday 6****th**** December**

_**St. Luke's Place, Greenwich Village**_

"Hnarff"

Caro grabbed a large chunk of the bedclothes and pulled them over her head. As Goren reached for the bedside light and the phone. It was not great news as he ended the call quickly and knowing he would not go back to sleep, got up. Gathering some clothes and leaving quietly, he had no idea if she was still asleep or not.

Two floors down in the kitchen, he finished dressing which he had half started in the bathroom, set coffee to make and cleared away a few things from last evening. That call from work could have waited, but they had just lost one of their best witnesses. And one of the only two could attest to Kevin Lessiter doing anything remotely illegal.

The life of a drug dealer could be as dangerous and short as that of his customers and also end in a very unglamorous way. Such was the fate of Dwayne Wilson last night in the Bronx, who was now lying on a slab at the morgue with more bullets in him, than _"bling"_ on him. Victim of a turf war, a dissatisfied customer or his own bosses, the chances were about equal and Goren knew it would not be long before someone took his place. Some other kid like Dwayne too easily impressed by the superficial and wanting a quick way out of lack of hope, lack of money and limited ambition.

He'd seen it happen in a different way to his own brother but it was not going to happen to his kid if he could help it. Goren picked up the small, square picture with its dark shadows, grey lines and white patches that sat on the counter. Not sure without the word _"top"_ written on it he would get it right even now. Seeing the image emerging first on the screen at the hospital he'd felt sick.

Sick with excitement and a lingering fear if she had any, Caro had hidden very well. All he was doing was crushing her hand, wondering if he could really perceive what he was supposed to be seeing and not sure what things were _"good", "fine"_ and _"normal"_ about it. Only that the words were the ones he wanted to hear, needed to hear and that piece of abstract in the corner was new life. Nature's design but of their making.

_His _son or daughter. That possessive pronoun he avoided using but felt at almost a physical, visceral level. And had been both shocked to discover and a little guilty about acknowledging, was in him too.

That was the reason why he told Ross he could get _"in the head"_ of Kevin Lessiter if the need arose. It would not be an occasion he would need to draw on things he'd read, stuff he'd heard people say and observed in the world around him. And not the little imagination it had taken at times, to put himself in the shoes of someone else.

To _"know"_ those thoughts, emotions and motivations that led them to do terrible things, especially to people they were supposed to love. That mixture of learned skill, acquired experience and maybe a bit of gift, it took to strip someone down, expose them to themselves and reflect their weaknesses back to them.

Goren put the picture back on top of a small pile of other material they had been given at Bellevue last evening. Things they had to read, to talk about and in the case of the classes, get booked in for. _"Delicious"_ or _"Homer"_ being just the latest in a line of silly names they were using and never would for real.

He picked up the phone on the wall with one hand, pressed the speed dial and poured coffee with the other.

"Mike? Yeah…guessed you probably were too…no it's not…so I guess we move to plan B…no don't use the words _'smoke them out'_ you know I still…uhuh…yeah if I go to Jersey and I call you from there? And something else Mike? Alex called me last night. She and Jack are going up to see Julie today…no that's his second ex-wife…yeah McCoy's daughter…she needs to see him, so could you or Megan…sure…yes…thanks. I guess it makes a lot of guys think…yeah so do I…uhuh…see you around ten thirty"

Goren ended the call to see Caro coming in yawning, mussed and very lovely.

"Can you handle coffee this morning?"

"Yeah. Might as well use up a little of my caffeine allowance"

She stood at the counter looking at one of those leaflets. "What do you think about a water birth Rob?"

"That it's great for dolphins Caro" he replied.

**Sunday 7****th**** December**

_**One Police Plaza, Elizabeth, New Jersey**_

It might not be the same size as Manhattan, have the same grandiosity or have forty-two feet of red painted steel discs outside, but Mike Logan had no problem answering the call out request. He was first on the stand-by roster that night and better for a case was on your own desk.

He stepped through the door one of the New Jersey cops indicated and into the observation section of their small interview suite. Gave barely a glance to the man sitting cuffed at the table the other side of the glass.

"Hi fellas" he said. "Thanks for what you did"

"Our pleasure" said Finn Tutuola "Will you excuse me?"

"Sure"

As the door closed behind him John Munch turned from watching Lessiter.

"I think my partner feels the urgent need to slip into something more comfortable. More his style"

Logan smiled. In the type of pants and sweater and with a wig he had removed, Finn must have looked very different from his usual rather _"street style",_ not forbidden but unlikely to be encouraged at Major Case day to day. But it had been enough, with some dim lighting, for him to appear to be Byron Kay back at his house in Lakeview Drive. Which local African American officer did the job last night Logan had no idea, but he and the New Jersey officers would get their thanks in time.

"He come quietly?"

"More or less" said Munch. "When he realised he was surrounded. Had a thirty-two on him. Locals are doing the inventory now and of course he invoked"

"Guessed he would" Logan reached into his jacket for an envelope. "You want to break the good news? Or shall I?"

"Be my guest Mike. This is more a Major Case baby though I don't see how this will improve our clear up rate"

"Patience John. We didn't get started on him yet"

Logan left, took a few steps down the hall and entered the other room with a nod at the uniform who stood guard.

"We meet again Mr Lessiter" he smiled sitting down. "Let's hope your lawyer gets here soon. Then we can get you out of here"

There was no reply but a slightly confused look.

"I expect you'll make bail on the burglary charge and I understand you own that pistol even if it is very naughty to be carrying it around with you with no permit for that. But your record is clean, so I expect the New Jersey people will be kind" Logan paused.

"Of course they are having a good look through that back pack you had with you. Let's hope you didn't get rash and have things will need some…some imagination…to explain away because…"

He shut up as a sergeant came in.

"Mr Lessiter's lawyer, Mr Lyman, has arrived Detective Logan"

"Oh good" Mike opened some papers in the envelope and slid one set over to Lessiter.

"That's the one we are waiting for a signature on…the one helpful judiciary and the DA's here and across the water got ready for when you came calling on Mr Kay. I guess you worked out we lured you into a trap…well I'm afraid just as the door on one opens; the other is about to close. I'm sure you'll find the detention cells at Major Case quite comfortable"

Logan stood up and glanced at his watch.

"With luck I'll have you back there in time for the end of _Sunday Night Football_. You know Bernie? You really should have stayed home to watch it"

_**To be continued…**_

_Note:__ the "red steel discs" are the sculpture/installation by Tony Rosenthal called _"Five In One"_ that was commissioned for Police Plaza in Manhattan and which have featured in LO:CI._


	32. Chapter 32

**Monday 8****th**** December**

_**Interview Room 2, Major Case Squad**_

"Good job Alex" said Danny Ross quietly.

The sound proofing between where he stood and inside the room was excellent, but there was a tendency for everyone to drop their voices when an interview was in progress the other side.

Beside him Ron Carver stood and listened for another minute before switching off the sound system.

"Excellent. Now Hunter has turned over on the matter of the connection between Kevin Lessiter and Antony Brown we are getting somewhere" he said. "Further than some private grief for NYPD anyway"

"Tell me" murmured Ross who had been painted a slightly bigger picture by Dick Nichols a while earlier.

As scandals went it was not the greatest but the check of Lessiter's locker, had led IAD to let one of the dogs sniff round. It went crazy beside another, which when it was opened, turned out to have ten bags of cocaine and heroin inside. Bags that should have been in an evidence locker and with one or more names beside them, as charged or already arraigned by the courts.

The locker belonged to a sergeant at the 18th and the bags had turned up the prints of three other officers. While Goren and Logan were baiting a trap for Kevin Lessiter, who was so far not named in that scandal, IAD led by Derek Patrickson were starting to uncover crooked dealing on drugs and some playing fast and loose with other things. Unauthorised shift swaps, _"ghosting"_ and officers on the fringes admitting to covering for colleagues not where they should be. Some might even be telling the truth that they felt or were pressured into it by a senior or more experienced officer.

But Wilhelmina _"Billy"_ Hunter was a critical link. She had been Lessiter's partner until recently and what Eames and Patrickson had persuaded her to admit, in exchange for some leniency, was to _"favours"_ they had done each other. One of which was a very specific day and time she recalled. When they went off their assigned beat for Kevin to pick up some book down at Pier 17.

More important was she was there and as the junior partner, looked the other way the day Kevin ran into an old acquaintance from the Bronx. One they should have booked. And who knew the way the law was framed, he'd probably not see more than the sky over Attica the rest of his life for what he was in possession of.

That was the hold Kevin had over Antony Brown and it was highly likely that was the heroin found in Bernie Lessiter's backpack. When he was caught sneaking in via the garage door to Byron Kay's house. Along with items like bleach and rat poison. There because Logan had done a good job _"accidentally"_ letting Kevin overhear a conversation with Goren on Saturday while the search of his garden was completed.

The impression the two of them created was that Byron had left a message about some vague information they might want to know. And that the pair of them were so pissed off with the extra hours they put in lately that they had decided to wait until Monday to find out what it was. If they were right, Lessiter would guess the meeting at Bellevue had jogged Kay's memory and what about. And know he had to act quickly to shut Kay up. Before he provided both the link between victims the session had been staged to try to uncover, but also a motive for Ann Lessiter to die.

But with the _"heat"_ put on by IAD and rippling through the 18th precinct on the other business, Kevin might have assumed he was being followed or maybe even bugged. He was neither and all of them were ninety percent certain it would be Bernie who turned up one of those nights. They already knew Kevin could not have killed Janet Kay. He was one place where his partner could not cover for him that morning. In court giving evidence.

"I take it Mr Lessiter senior is not talking" said Ron putting away his gold pen.

"Quite the reverse Mr Carver" snorted Ross. "He's along the hall confessing to everything. Trying to save his only misbegotten son, to misquote the Nicene Creed. Bobby's checking his work sheets now. Between playing around with a kukri in the locker room"

Ron Carver laughed softly. "I feel already like I was never away"

"I'm not sure you aren't a bad influence Ron. Compared to Teresa"

"Oh you won't be seeing much of me Captain. This will be a one off with her tied up in court"

"Guess you are going to be busy if…"

"I hope not" said Ron quietly "And I pray not"

"Speaking of which, I'll go haul Alex out of there. She has somewhere else she should be very soon"

_**Radiography and Medical Imaging Dept, Mount Sinai Hospital**_

Eames returned the half drunk cup of coffee to the reception area for the CT unit. Being a cop and them realising it had its advantages. It was better than the sort likely to come from the machine. Jack had said not to come and not to wait, but he needed his Irish legal head examined if he thought either of those things likely.

Even if it did mean a lot of waiting around with nothing to do, this was more important than the previous tests. The one that would tell them what sort of fight they might have on their hands. The place or places, the weapons to be used, how much of a beating Jack might have to take to win and maybe his chances of that.

Of course Eames was tempted to say _"yes"._ To stay at 1PP, keep her head in work and to be there to back Bobby in the unconventional strategy they aimed to try with Kevin Lessiter. With Carver still tutting about what could be proved and the garbage coming out of his father's mouth, it was turning into a legal snake pit. One it might be hard to convince a jury to jump into.

That she might not be back in time did not seem to worry her partner. In fact Eames was rather hurt by that, until she got a grip on her own thinking. However confident he felt or did not, Goren would never show her that. Not today. Not allow her to feel at all torn and conflicted between being with him and doing the job and being with Jack, whom she loved and was so damn scared about. If Bobby or McCoy had _"need"_ of her today it was of a different type for each of them.

_And who was she to feel so darn indispensable? When she was the one waiting any day on an offer could mean by the turn of the year she would be gone from Major Case forever?_

Eames turned as the door opened and McCoy stepped out shrugging back into his jacket.

"Everything okay?"

"Sure" he smiled "Not hard for a guy to lie on his back and let things happen Al"

"Shut up!" she blushed knowing full well what he was alluding to.

What they had done last night, for the first time since they knew. What with the restrictions the "sample" imposed and everything else, making out had been the last thing on their minds.

"I need a pee" he said handing her his tie.

Ten minutes later he was wearing it and they were holding hands very tightly as they went in to see and hear the results.

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

"Now are we all clear what we are and are not supposed to do?" asked Ross.

"Yes sir" said Logan smartly for them all.

Their Captain could behave a bit like a prep school principal or Cub Scout leader at times. And he'd learned in the last couple of years just how much _"naughty kid at the back"_ tone he could get away with.

"Mike?"

"Huh?"

He caught the bag with a bloody and strange knife in it as Goren tossed it.

"You shouldn't throw knives Bobby"

"It's dull" he shrugged going by Logan with his folder into the larger of the visiting officer's rooms.

Logan stashed it in the box with the rest of the genuine evidence found on Bernie Lessiter, though CSU had reported something odd about his car they were all over. Megan had gone to check that out. Meanwhile, his house at Gerry Street over in Brooklyn was being searched as well.

Goren went into the room, removing from his folder all the information Eames had been handed at The Carter Clinic on semen testing. He sat down opposite Ron Carver as Ross came in.

"While I remember Bobby" he said. "I'd like you to deal with this please"

He handed him a letter with another sheet of paper attached. Seeing the heading of the NYPD Academy Goren looked up with a soft sound of horror.

"But…"

"Don't but Bobby. I scheduled you in now and in any case, read what it says in the third paragraph"

The Captain had been wrestling with the rosters for a large part of next year for days given the _"knowns" _about individual officers and the more problematic _"unknowns"_. Like when Eames would be leaving and of course Goren was acutely aware he would normally have had a conversation with Ross this morning. To give him due notice of his need for paternity leave come summer. Circumstances of work and especially those of Alex and Jack right now reason to delay hopefully, just a day or two.

But it could not wait much longer and he didn't care what flattery the Commandant used in hinting if Robert Goren were available, they would be pleased to hear him again. To him it felt like punishment in advance of something he had not done. To have to go and give those talks again to the cadets scared him so silly.

"My sympathy" said Ron when he explained. "My boss has given me that job too"

_**To be continued…**_


	33. Chapter 33

**Monday 8****th**** December**

_**Visiting Officer's Room, Major Case Squad**_

Kevin arrived in the company of his uncle, Commander Max Lessiter and with an expression he was both nervous and reluctant to be there. Either under orders of the family kind or feeling an obligation to bring the clothes and have the _"relative's visit"_ offered to them.

Slightly ahead of entitlement but then it was the brother and father of a cop who was down the hall singing like a proverbial canary. Or telling a story of his guilt and responsibility Logan had earlier described as _"horseshit"._ It was he showed them into the room where Carver and Goren appeared to be a mixture of taking a break with some lunch and working.

"Better that you wait in here sir" he said to Max Lessiter. "Less of a…um…a public place for you and you'll understand why the squad room…um…is not appropriate right now"

"Thank you" he replied with a nod at Ron as they sat down.

Goren paid no heed as they made introductions between Kevin and Carver and he and Mike swapped some papers between them.

"This has to be the biggest bunch of crap Ron" said the Commander.

"I wish it were Max" he shrugged setting aside his sandwich. "There's no doubt at all your…Mr Lessiter…was found gaining unauthorised entry to a residence in New Jersey, was carrying a gun and had with him a variety of substances we think he aimed to force the homeowner to take"

Logan glanced up from the papers before he left and snorted "Either that or he's gone into the pest control business and was aiming to poison some rats and use the bleach to clean up their shit"

Carver continued "And he has confessed to killing his intended victim's wife, Janet Kay in the summer. Most of what he has told us about that fits with the known facts of the case. Including ones the police withheld at the time. The murder weapon for example"

Goren looked up resting his chin in his palm "What we did not work out yet, is why he's confessing to others he could not have possibly done"

He gestured. "I've got his work sheets here, been checking them through. And unless they are all wrong he could not possibly have killed some of the victims. Aside from the question of motive for any of them"

"He must have gone mad" muttered the Commander.

"Not according to the psychiatrist did an initial evaluation" said Carver turning to some papers. "And we found no evidence he was being treated for a prior condition. Unless either of you know of something?"

There was no reply.

"I think he's covering for someone" said Goren staring right at Kevin as he said it.

"Like who?"

"If he wasn't dead I'd say Antony Brown sir, since…"

"What nonsense" snapped Commander Lessiter. "That was just the act of a drug crazed junkie. Besides? What motive would Bernie have to see Ann dead?"

"You don't seem to be saying much Kevin. This is your father we are…"

"Bobby?" Mike's head came around the door. "Got Byron Kay on the line. You might want to hear this?"

He got up and took a step towards the door before turning back. As if realising he should not leave his folder behind where either of the Lessiter's might see it. And in picking it up, made sure that material from _The Carter Clinic_ fell out on the table.

"Oh…um sorry" he made like he was embarrassed for it to be seen. "Personal stuff"

Then as he went to the door, glanced at Ron. Knew from the look on his face they were right. Carver was the one in the best physical position to judge Kevin Lessiter's reaction to that. He went to his desk and made to pick up his telephone and listen.

Meanwhile, in the smaller room, Ron was explaining to Commander Lessiter exactly how his brother got caught over in New Jersey. How they had begun to suspect there was a connection between the victims or at least some of them. That someone at Bellevue on Friday would either know that for guilty reason or recall something. He was also telling them a massive lie to the effect they had been mounting a watch on several locations. Including Kevin's home in case he was to become a victim.

"Guessed you or IAD would be" he muttered as Goren returned.

"Don't say anything about things at the 18th Kevin" said the Commander.

"An internal matter for the police" said Carver casually. "Kevin here is of no interest to me on that. So far as I'm aware, it does not involve him in a criminal offence"

Goren turned to him. "Take my advice pal. If you know any more than you said to IAD get in quickly. Might get you some consideration…though didn't you get yourself caught up once before in something like this?"

"I've resigned" he mumbled.

His tone suggested that was on his uncle's advice knew full well he was highly likely to be kicked off the force this time. And that he would drag the Lessiter name less through the muck. Taint Max by association who was part of the Brooklyn _"establishment"._

"Oh well. No point in covering up for officers who will look to drop you in the smelly stuff to save their skin. Like Officer Hunter. Think she was in earlier speaking to someone"

"Billy?" Kevin frowned.

"Yeah. She was quite helpful on a number of things I believe"

"Uncle Max I think we should…"

"Sit down!" said Goren more or less pulling him by his sleeve back into the seat beside him.

"Detective Goren!" protested the older Lessiter.

It said something to the regard Ron Carver was still held in, when a fractional look and gesture from him, silenced the Commander. Indicating he would be unwise to protest too much on Kevin's behalf.

"Come on Kevin" said Goren softly. "You know we worked it out, know from Billy you had contact with Brown back in July. He was looking at life for what you found on him and we know from Byron what went on between him and Ann three years ago"

"I have no idea what you are talking about"

"Maybe not the details or did she tell you those too? Where she and he did it? Where they made out? Where he knocked her up? With that kid you'd been trying for…what was it? Close to a year?"

Give him his due he recovered well "Ann told me about that later but he wasn't the…the father. I forgave her. We had re-built our marriage"

"Was that before you bust her ribs or after Kevin?" asked Logan who had appeared silently at the door with a box in his hands.

"I did no such thing. She fell"

"You knew Kevin" Goren shoved the clinic papers in front of him. "You knew because of this and so will we when the judge signs an order for your medical records. All those months doing it by the calendar after Ann miscarried, all those times there was no joy in it for either of you anymore and you finally got up the guts to go throw one in a jar. That's when you found out. That you had a father but would never have a son to call you that. When the only way she could have gotten pregnant the first time was by another man"

"Right around the time she was working so late at school on that play, spending all that time with a good looking, well read, travelled and intelligent substitute teacher. Who also happened to be black" said Logan. "Think that made it worse for him Bobby?"

"For his old man when he found out I expect it did. But what will have got to Kevin was all those months of feeling he'd secured his future against death's eternal cold and…"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Goren smiled "So you don't know your Shakespeare that well after all Kevin. It's how we live in perpetuity. How your old man felt he had. When fourth time lucky he got a son. One would pass on his genes. A son, like him turned out very second rate in some ways. An also ran as a cop"

He stood up and grabbed his own crotch "But not down here. So you thought. What must it have been like? All those weeks she was puking up, turning you down because she didn't feel like it? Or was it not like that? You kissing her belly as it grew, feeling your child kick and looking forward to decorating the nursery. Oh how bad it must feel to know you did all that and then to discover those Lessiter genes you held in lease, were usurped by a cuckoo in the nest. In your wife's belly"

"Shut up! Shut up!" Lessiter almost screamed. "Yes it was like that, but I did not kill her"

"Of course you didn't" said Mike "Antony Brown did that. Same as he helped you stalk other victims because you had a stash of heroin could send him to Attica"

"You're mad all of you" said Max Lessiter softly.

"No sir" Goren turned to him. "Apart from Hunter we have another witness can put Kevin, in disguise with another victim. _The Othello Café_ where another worked is right on his patch and used by cops a lot for their breaks. And even if your brother who is trying to save his son, did do all the others? How the hell did he get Brown to help him? You know Bernie hates minorities. Why would he choose a black man to help him?"

"Unless it was to help him frame Byron Kay after Bernie _arranged _Kay's suicide?" Mike put down the box as he said it. "Make it look like he killed his own wife, covered his tracks with the others and finally, could stand it no more?"

"Kevin?" said Goren gently "I know what happened. How you ended up in this nightmare. It was your Dad wasn't it? All of this…this carnage…this theatre was to protect him wasn't it?"

_**To be continued…**_


	34. Chapter 34

**Monday 8****th**** December**

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

"No! Shut up! No!"

Lessiter almost screamed, jumped up, ducked around Mike, who let him go and ran out into the Squad Room. He looked like a cornered animal for a moment, before making for the door where Ross and Eames were stepping through deep in conversation. And becoming an unwitting block to any way out for him.

Goren and Logan followed him, well aware of colleagues tensed and ready to respond if need be.

"Come on Kevin" said Goren holding open his arms "Let's get this over with. Let's call your lawyer, go somewhere quiet and talk this through"

"There's nothing to say"

"So why are you looking to jump out the nearest window?" said Logan.

"I want to leave"

"In that case Kevin Lessiter I'm arresting you…" Goren reached to his belt for his cuffs.

"Shut up!" he covered his ears backing into a corner where he slid down onto the floor.

Goren went and squatted beside him "It was your Dad got you into this Kevin. It was him so…so eaten up with hate and rage when you told him what happened he went and killed Janet Kay"

"No"

"He did. We know he did. What happened then? He called you? Got you to help him hide the body? Perhaps try to make it look like it was Byron did it? That know-all college kid messed with your wife. But that didn't work did it? Kay stayed free and maybe you were trying to fix your marriage?"

"I told you that. It's true"

"Maybe but either that was not good enough for your old man kept on at you to get rid of her or that was your plan all along from that moment. Dead it wouldn't all come out would it? Your…your problem…who she went with…that nice little schoolmarm was suddenly turning into a swan…doing well in her job, paying half the bills, starting to kick more and more against your control of her. And you couldn't give her the one thing you thought would finally tie her down, keep her home"

"Go to hell"

"I probably will. But I won't do it for killing five people to cover up the one murder I did not do. Or for planning to kill another and frame him for it all" Goren paused.

"It was Brown where you made your mistake Kevin. Recruiting unreliable extra help you needed that then went and died on you too soon"

"And this" Mike tossed onto the floor the bloody kukri in its bag. "Found it with your father's stuff. The knife that killed Mainwairing"

"You didn't…you couldn't because I threw it…"

"Go on" said Goren "Because you threw that knife where Kevin?"

There was a brief silence before Logan's voice said. "Kevin Lessiter I'm arresting you for…"

_**Office Of The Captain, Major Case**_

"You have all you need Ron?" asked Ross.

"They are telling slightly different versions of events but with the evidence I understand CSU turned up, I don't see a problem"

"They saved themselves the death penalty by confessing"

"You don't sound too pleased by that Captain"

"Seven murders and what might have been nine had they got to Kay and Brown not died on them?" Ross snorted. "Maybe more judging by those three or four names and other details they found in Lessiter's car? To say nothing of a man spent time in jail for something he did not do. And don't try to tell me even Jack McCoy would not have gone that way on principle. Perhaps with even more incentive? To prove a cop was not beyond what a jury would serve up to anyone else?"

Carver shrugged "Could be and it does save people like Harry Bunker and his kids. It coming out what Doris was doing on the side. And right now whatever he would have done, I'm just glad to hear the good news about Jack"

"Me too" nodded Ross. "Bet you wish you were Ed Rollin's lawyer right now. God knows what he and his lawyers might take the city coffers for in damages"

"Let's just say I picked an interesting time to return"

Ross smiled fractionally "Like old times with Goren and Logan again?"

"Some nasty ones for a while there"

The Captain frowned.

"You were not there Danny" said Carver quietly "It's not always…um…a comfortable experience to be alongside Bobby in those situations. Now if you'll excuse me?"

At the door they shook hands and Carver left.

"Mike? Where did Bobby go?"

"No idea boss" Mike said from his desk "CSU? Alex went that way"

_**CSU Vehicle Exam Room, 1PP**_

Eames and Wheeler were taking a formal inventory for the case file of the items eventually found in Bernie Lessiter's _Chevrolet_. Items which undermined any claim he might try to make in future to knowing nothing of what his son had got to up to. Having interviewed Kevin, the two of them believed what he said when he claimed Bernie was, for a time, in ignorance over much of what he had planned through the summer. The five _"cover up"_ murders for the one of Janet Kay, but also a preparatory _"smoke screen"_ for two more.

That of Ann Lessiter and eventually Byron Kay. But his father had known of and been party to her killing by Brown. It was him who raised the alarm as soon as he got a call down in Bergen Bay to say she was despatched in Red Hook. To set in train Kevin's alibi in good time, which removed him from any suspicion from the outset.

Items like the book purchased from Julius Mainwairing, some of the contents of the purses of Janet and Ann and a register receipt from _The Othello Café._ Items they aimed to plant in Kay's home to point to his guilt. Along with Willard's spectacle case, his missing credit card and some folded papers had notes of names associated with Shakespearean plays and the means by which the characters died. The intention was probably to use some of the items found at Brown's apartment too. Things like the photographs. But once Ann was dead and the focus certain to be on him for a while, Kevin did not have time or dare to go to retrieve them, when Brown died unexpectedly.

The hiding place very cunning and thanks to Bernie's trade in the furniture/upholstery business. Because it was Tony Antonelli with one of those sudden thoughts who had done some double-checking. That the model and year of Bernie's car did not come with a drop-down armrest at the back as _"standard"._ He had fitted that and when the thin padding was removed it revealed a box in which he had secreted those things.

"You know" said Megan "Had Bobby and Mike not got it out of him, Kevin could have got away with this. Even with his old man telling a crock, Bernie knew enough to convince some"

"I heard it was pretty…um brutal" said Eames.

Wheeler turned to her "You mean on Bobby don't you Alex?"

She nodded knowing what Megan did not. About the doubt cast for a while on Goren's own paternity, that might have been part of what sent him into a downward spiral. One he got himself out of, just in time.

"So who will hold his hand when you leave?"

"No one I hope" said Eames "What I mean is, that's not the way to deal with him.

_**"Five In One", Police Plaza**_

Goren had been sitting on the plinth for almost half an hour. Leaving just as soon as duty permitted, getting close to frozen as the wind whistled round and wishing he still smoked. He had learned over the years not to let things get _"personal"._ Learned the hard way on occasions, when he'd be awake into the early hours struggling with his own anger. Or would sometimes drive by the exit _for Carmel Ridge,_ so absorbed in still trying to understand the impossible to understand.

Learned not to draw too much on of his own feelings and thoughts and fears. To expose those parts of him he found hardest to live with at times, never mind reveal them for others to see. But this had been different. Circumstances had conspired _"against him"._ Of course he could put himself in the mindset of Kevin Lessiter, when he believed Ann was carrying his child.

Those same private, tender and beautiful moments he and Caro were having between his mild panics and fears. He did not come with the macho baggage and concept of his own immortality through their baby, which Lessiter had. Handed down by that chauvinist, racist father of his. But he could understand the rage.

Not just all those things he would think and feel if Caro was unfaithful to him but the devastating knowledge it was another man's child growing inside her. One he was fretting about and loving and had now seen in that grainy image. But harder was something else, as Goren wiped his eyes with his fingertips, not watering because of the wind.

It was having to confront, to understand and really to forgive his dead father a little for the first time. To realise and accept that Dad maybe knew or suspected about Mom and Mark Brady. And if you did that, you also had to comprehend and be charitable about some of how Dad was. Especially towards him. Little Robbie who didn't look like him, act like him and was so different to his brother Frank. The kid he might or must have sometimes doubted was his son.

Goren stood up and walked one more time around the sculpture. Thinking how strange the mind was. How rationally he had known that ever since Mom was dying and he found out the dark secret of her life. Even she was not sure when she died who his biological father was. Though if anything, he even less resembled Brady than his old man. It wasn't until he found an old black and white picture among her things that he found visual evidence to indicate what a DNA test was later to confirm. When he saw a picture of his paternal great grandfather and one of his great uncles. Realised how certain genes had lain dormant in Dad and Frank, but random combination had brought them out in him.

So he had tried before to _"put himself"_ into Dad's position but failed. Until now. Until he felt that almost primeval sense of biological fatherhood for himself and then had to put himself in the head of a murdering cop. When Lessiter realised his genetic toehold on the future, his preparation against the end that would come, just did not exist.

Goren turned back towards the HQ building. He had work to do and a partner who had received some equally joyful, but different news of hope for the future.

And maybe in his own future he could begin to understand and forgive his own father a little more? When he found himself, come the warm days of summer, confronted with the real trials and joys and practicalities of being a parent.

_**To be continued…**_


	35. Chapter 35

**Tuesday 9****th**** December**

_**Office Of The Captain, Major Case**_

Danny Ross shut the door.

"You know why I asked you in Alex?"

"To sample some of your decent coffee?"

He shrugged "I can take a hint. Sometimes. So what do you think to what came in your mail this morning?"

It was the first of her offers for a Lieutenant's posting. It was usual to discuss it with your boss so it had been no surprise when he asked her to step in. Something of a welcome relief from the tedious 'i' dotting and 't' crossing that came at the conclusion of many cases.

"To be honest? Not much" Eames sat down. "Though right now I have to say my focus is probably not on the career"

"Understandable…here…and let's come back to that Alex"

Ross handed her the cup and sat in the second chair he kept by a small table.

She took a sip "I guess I expected to get the chance of a precinct. It's what most in my position know best and in a lot of cases what they want"

"You don't feel cut off from that side of the job? That you've been too long on specialist squads Alex?"

"A little…not that it scares me…"

"Of course not" Ross laughed softly "But I'm guessing _where_ is the reason for the hesitation about a precinct?"

Eames glanced at him "Let's face it, the 107th in Flushing is not exactly the crime hot spot of the city"

"Don't underestimate places like that Eames. Think long term" said Ross quietly. "A good job done in a good neighbourhood…impress the right people…can't hurt the career"

"I know that and there are some would bite off the Chief's hand for it…and for that reason…but that's not me is it?"

"No" acknowledged the Captain.

"And there are practical issues. Jack and I talked before…before we knew…about possibly moving to cut travel time for me…just right now, two days before his surgery we can't think about moving to the end of the street, never mind over to Queens"

"I understand. Next week…it might look different?"

"Yes I expect it would"

"I…I think people are aware of your situation Alex…prepared to grant a little leeway. I've…I've…um…had a word about that"

"Thank you" she said softly.

There was a human and kind side to Danny Ross it sometimes felt he did a good job of trying to hide. It could be it came from his own domestic circumstances, where divorced and juggling custody of his two sons with his ex, he knew what it was like. Unlike a few men in his position, ones of the old school, whose wives if they still had them and kids, were incidental to much of their thinking. They went out, earned the money, climbed the ladder and were even more like part-time fathers and even husbands because of it.

"Something might help you, though of course we are not having this part of the conversation…"

"Can't hear a word you are saying sir"

"Good then you won't hear me saying I know for a fact the next thing on the list will be back in Vice. Specifically Manhattan. Does that clarify your thinking on the 107th a little more?"

Eames thought a moment "Is yes and no an acceptable answer Captain?"

"Now you are starting to sound like Mike when I asked if he knew how all those parking slot signs got moved around"

Earlier in the year there had been something of a minor rebellion when some process resulted in a slew of spots for official vehicles, like some of theirs, getting shifted to less convenient locations. In favour of some senior civilian personnel and a couple kept for visiting City Councillors. For almost two weeks signage was mysteriously moving all around. With the one for people like Dick Nichols ending up where CSU used to be and chaos was ensuing in the parking garage almost every other morning.

Whether Logan was involved Eames had no idea, but he was prime among the suspects identified in Major Case. The general view was it was a small group from all over the building and in the end the plan was scrapped.

"I can see a lot in its favour" mused Eames "I'm out of touch with some things and others don't change it's just…"

"It would feel like going backwards?"

"Yes" she sighed "The part of me wants to tackle something new…different…would then see Queens as offering more of that. But not knowing how Jack is going to be…how well he'll do or if he'll get the all clear down the line…that says to me to stick with the local, or the familiar"

She paused "That makes it sound like I want something easy…almost part time so I can put all my energy into…have more time to…"

"Alex" Ross reached over and patted her hand "If that was what you were thinking, I doubt anyone would blame you and don't cast it in negative terms. You're not unique…what I mean is…the particular issue is especially stressful for you…but there will be others thinking of the kids schooling as a factor or their wife's job and all the rest. Don't beat yourself up for having very good personal considerations"

"I guess so and there are some would beat me up for ignoring it"

"Exactly. Speaking of which, how much time do you want to take on Thursday? All day if you want of course Alex"

"Oh no. Better to keep busy. We'll only drive each other crazy at the hospital. Jack's surgery is not until two thirty, they'll be doing various pre op checks anyway so I'll just check in on him in the morning and then go a little early when he should be coming round"

"Fine. And of course if you are interested in a precinct, to widen your portfolio a little more, there's likely to be one a little north of here with a slot or maybe two"

You did not need to be a genius to work out Ross meant the 18th. The news about the drug confiscations and more minor rule bending had broken. No one was suggesting any of the senior personnel were involved or knew and did nothing. But the thinking went that things went on under noses that should have sniffed them out. So some transfers, with minor blots on copybooks, were almost inevitable.

"Very useful location Captain. For _Macy's _I mean"

"Why else would I suggest it Alex?" Ross growled. "And I take back the offer to get you some grace on the Flushing job. Much more and I'll be tempted to suggest they backlist you completely. Give me longer to decide whom to appoint as Goren's keeper"

Ross suddenly frowned and looked by her. "Speaking of which Detective. Go find out why your partner is putting a chair on his desk and seems about to climb on it"

Eames stood up "Do you want to know the answer?"

"No. Just bring me a pack of _Advil_" sighed Ross.

**_Vestry Street, Soho_**

"…and then he went into the locker room and…"

Eames broke off telling the story of how Goren, so irritated by a flickering light above his desk which been ignored by Maintenance, finally took the solution into his own hands.

"Jack you can't take that bathrobe to hospital"

"Why not?" he stopped by the bed on which he was packing a bag.

"It's clean Al"

"It may be but it's old and…and out of shape and…worn"

"Just like me then" he shrugged.

She had to smile at that.

"What's wrong with that nice dark red one Julie got you…Father's Day was it?"

McCoy pulled a face "I look like…like a gigolo or lounge lizard in it. I know it's silk and expensive but I feel like I should be using a cigarette holder or wearing a cravat under it. Like Tyrone Power or Gable in those thirties movies"

"Who?"

"Cut it out and the green and white…well slightly grey one is comfortable. Surely a man about to lose one of his nuts is entitled to some comfort? And I did agree to those…things you got me"

"They are called pyjamas Jack" Eames said. "Okay then. Put the ratty bathrobe in"

It was in the bag in a trice, before she changed her mind.

_**To be continued…**_


	36. Chapter 36

**Thursday 11****th**** December**

**_The Parking Lot, Mount Sinai Hospital_**

Goren started the engine of the Mustang convertible to get it warmed up inside on a night when a light snow had started to fall. For the comfort of his soon to be two, female passengers. Technically speaking it was Caro's car. He'd sold his classic soon after they moved into St Luke's Place.

They did not need two cars. The house only had one parking spot down the side and it was money better saved and spirited away for the future. How much longer the Ford would stay was another matter still to be decided. Caro might mutter occasionally a regular sedan was _"dull"_ but fact was when the baby came it would be far more practical. You would have to be mad to drive round with a new born with the top down in summer and by the time she got heavily pregnant he doubted she'd find it so easy to get in and out of.

Caro was working one of her occasional evening clinics for out patients, so it had made sense for him to offer to pick up Alex after visiting Jack and then drop by that way to collect her from Bellevue. The good news was though he spent only a very short while with Jack who was still groggy and sore after abdominal surgery, he was doing well. Had come round with no problems and the histology while he was still _"under"_ had been good. Yes the growth on his testicle was as expected, malignant, but none of the supporting or connective tissue showed any signs of cancer.

Couple of doses of not especially pleasant, but standard chemo and he had an eighty percent chance of _"beating it"_ according to the specialist. He was just so relieved for Alex when she called him just before he left work and when he saw her up on the fourth floor; it was like a weight had lifted from her shoulders. The dark rings she had been disguising a little under make up would hopefully start to fade now and she would quit that lip chewing. In favour of her more usual amazing appetite she had lost in recent days.

As Goren turned the fast warming car to the entrance she stepped out.

"How was he when you left?"

"Having some water, flirting with a nurse and watching the TV. Though I doubt he'll be awake for long. You know how anaesthesia is Bobby"

"Unfortunately I do. But then I'm told I make a very bad patient in every sense"

"I expect you are like Jack. Complain all the time in private but are like a little lamb when it comes to…"

She stopped with a sudden sneeze "Sorry…all I need is a cold and for him to get it"

Goren sensed her raking for tissues in her purse. "There's usually some in the glove box Alex"

"Danks" she said opening it.

"Did you eat yet? Only I can…"

Eames blew her nose.

"Yes. Went and got something when they were doing something to or for him earlier"

She blew again and then seemed to drop something putting their pack of tissues away.

"Bobby?" Eames said quietly "I…er…this fell out…and um…"

"What?" he frowned with a quick glance over as he drove.

"I didn't mean to pry but I couldn't exactly…um…well not see"

"See what? I doubt it's a statement from a secret bank account in the Bahamas, Caro never told me about…and if it is, I shall have something to say about that"

"It…er…it's got _Bellevue Maternity Department_ on the top" Eames said putting it back in the glove box.

"Oh" Goren said calmly. "Yes well it would Alex. It's where people have babies. Where we are aiming to have ours. Around 17th June next year. Caro is ten weeks pregnant"

"Stop the car this minute!" Eames barked.

"Excuse me?"

"Stop the car so I can give you a great big hug Goren…I mean Daddy"

**Friday 12****th**** December**

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

It was with considerable trepidation Goren approached the door that morning. Alex discovering by accident was not at all how they planned it. In fact with Jack's situation and wanting to be sensitive to that, he had not given it any thought. Beyond the fact he guessed he would be subject to the sort of ribald response he'd seen other people get in that situation.

Your own partner's private happiness and kindness born out of your personal relationship over many years, sometimes trying, some times happy for you both, was one thing. And Alex after all that had happened to her seemed to find it especially wonderful news. Didn't even tease him about whether it was a _"happy accident"._ Goren had a hideous feeling when they got home last night she and Caro, occasionally giggling upstairs in the sitting room, were having one of those _"female"_ conversations it was better not to ask about. The sort just a look told you that you were not invited to be part of.

But she had checked before he drove her back to Soho quite late, it was not something to be kept a secret and he suspected along with news of Jack, Eames would have given anyone she spoke to, that bulletin as well. He was too busy trying not to apologise to George Reese for getting his daughter pregnant and consoling Caro. Not so much that Eileen was not happy, as initially very casual about the news, having worked it out two weeks ago.

The locker room was suspiciously quiet when he arrived. No one from Major Case about at all and Goren's dread only rose when he saw how unusually _"normal"_ things looked in the Squad Room. Or rather _"abnormal"._ Nobody just ahead of the shift starting having a quick gossip or grabbing coffee. But he had barely stepped through the door when Joe Wakefield who sat nearest to it said:

"Oh Bobby this is for you"

And then as he turned, Joe tossed something in his direction and Goren automatically reached out to catch. Even before it landed softly in his palm he realised what it was and that it was just the start. As his hand closed around one _Trojan _someone else spoke and another flew his way. This time out of the wrapper. By the time Goren reached his desk he wished now was nearer the door, condoms were flying in his direction like confetti at a wedding. Along with comments like _"I guess this is too late now Bobby"._

Mike lay in wait at his desk and was very probably the person along with Eames, he could thank for this. Her expression was that interesting mix of the totally guilty and completely innocent, women manage so well.

"Congratulations Bobby" said Mike kindly. "From all of us. To you and Caroline. And we got you these too"

From behind his back he produced a pack of diapers.

"Thank you Mike" he replied managing to gather himself "I'll be sure to save the first used and smelly one for you"

Then Ross' office door was flung open.

"Goren? In here now and the rest of you? Get this place cleaned up! It looks like a Bronx bordello on a Saturday night"

At first he thought Ross was joking but his face was like thunder.

"Well I'm waiting Bobby"

It did cross Goren's mind for a fraction of a second to just deck the man. He couldn't lighten up for five seconds; allow him a little shy joy about something he wanted very much and especially when Ross began to drone on about the rosters. And how he had better let him know exactly when this baby was due and how he aimed to take or split his paternity leave. Somehow he resisted and just as well. Because when Goren looked at the seat he was being irritably waved to, it was taken.

By a very large teddy bear whose paws were cuffed to the arms. Before he felt someone give his shoulder a quick squeeze and Ross's voice say.

"I'm very happy for you Bobby. Think you could take this guy into custody until your baby is ready to take over?"

"No trouble Captain" he said quietly.

_**To be continued…**_


	37. Chapter 37

**Thursday 18****th**** December**

_**St. Luke's Place, Greenwich Village**_

Goren stood back to admire his handiwork for a few minutes. It had been worth taking a few of the hours owed to him to get the dining room completed. The help of his college buddy Lewis had only cost them a couple of dinners and a few beers, but that left two lengths of wallpaper incomplete. And he wasn't sure it might not be quicker without Lewis.

He might be able to smooth out the dents in a car panel to perfection and do a fantastic customised paint job but when it came to decorating, his status was strictly _"amateur"._ Goren had just got the things cleared away and the floor almost waxed, when the phone rang.

_"Hi Bobby. It's Mike"_

"I'm still owed almost two more hours"

"_And you'll get them. Just thought you might enjoy a trip upstate with me"_

"Does this involve a chain saw and fir trees by any chance?" he asked suspiciously. "Only it's one of the many things Caro has organised"

Logan laughed.

"_No. Just there has been a body found in Orange County the locals think we might be interested in. My partner has a leave day and yours is with Jack"_

"Yeah of course…his chemo…why us?"

He could hear Logan sigh.

_"Has all the hallmarks of the Lessiters Bobby"_

"What!" he barked. "You mean those two sons of…"

"_Guess we'll find out. Half-an- hour? And bring something suitable for rough terrain. It's in Harriman State Park"_

"Okay"

It gave him just about time to finish clearing away, grab a shower and shave and almost be out in the street when Logan's Mercury drew up to the kerb.

**_Lake Kanawauke, Harriman Park, Orange County, New York State_**

At almost fifty thousand acres and only thirty miles north of the city, the park was famous for having over thirty lakes. Some of them nature's creation and some of them, like _Kanawauke _created by man. Traditionally it was the location of a number of Scout Camps and Logan had been to it before, during his youth.

Unlikely as it seemed, Mike appeared to have had quite a long and illustrious career in the various parts of the Scouting movement. Though some might say he was a classic example of how all the lessons and values of early life do not always carry over fully to adulthood.

And it was not the badges Logan got for knot tying or tracking that they discussed as they drove north and then into a camp area like most this time of year, normally closed off. The victim had been provisionally identified as Aaron Copsey based the vehicle he was found in. Discovered by a Park Ranger, doing a regular but less frequent patrol this time of year and halfway down the bank of the lake.

It was wet and muddy and the gumboots both had ready were necessary. A tow truck and those other grim harbingers of death had churned up the ground in the clearing. A coroner's truck, a CSI four wheel and numerous examples belonging to the local Sheriff's department and the Park Service.

Aaron Copsey came from Brooklyn. He was a single, retired, African American who according to the neighbours was a regular _"snowbird"._ One of those seniors, who for much of each winter, headed towards the warm Southern States like Florida, Texas or Arizona. In his case, in a small RV and with no close family he had not been reported missing, though the neighbours did think it odd not to have received a post card since he left the first weekend of November.

Deputy Dougan explained how one of the Rangers was doing a regular check on the campsites and clearings yesterday afternoon. Although gates to prevent their use blocked them off, there were occasional illicit and unauthorised campers. She spotted the roof of the RV and checked there was no one inside or trapped, since it looked to have rolled down the bank.

Nor when she called the cops, was the RV reported stolen and an initial search as darkness fell turned up nothing and nobody might have been with it. They even wondered if it had been deliberately abandoned even though it was not especially old, in good condition and licensed.

"When was the last time this site was used?" asking Goren glancing around at the trees which lined the clearing.

"For two nights beginning Friday 31st October" replied Dougan. "This site is mainly used by Scouts and one group from New Jersey had it for their last camp of the year. Some sort of Halloween Party and the RV was not here when they left and the barrier swung over and locked for winter"

They walked to the cream coloured vehicle, which the truck had hauled up the bank. The front end was muddy from the edge of the lake.

"We almost sent it off to the pound" he shrugged. "But my partner could smell something strange and so we began to check around. Found them in the stove"

"Cats" muttered Goren looking at the decaying bodies of two in plastic bags.

"He's allergic" nodded Mike crouching for a better look. "Do we know if Copsey owned cats?"

"According to your guys have been talking to the neighbours. They fit…um…the description of Copsey's pets and he took them with him each time he went away"

"And that got you even more curious?"

"Yes Detective Logan"

At the door the Deputy signalled out a couple of CSI technicians who each left carrying a bucket laden with soil.

"Shit!" said Mike softly.

He and Goren stood looking at the storage space under the seat/pull out bed of the camper van. In the cavity was the half exposed body of an elderly black man. The rest of the space was filled with dirt.

Goren reached out a gloved hand and lifted the nearest one to him. The tips of the fingers had broken nails and were torn and bloody.

"He was buried alive in there" he said quietly.

"Uhuh" said Dougan. "When we lifted the seat cushion we could see the top hinged to use as storage was nailed down. So apart from there being little room for leverage, there is no way he could have kicked or pushed his way out"

"Suffocation?" asked Logan

"Doc still isn't sure. The dirt would have moved over the head with the RV pointing down the bank but we think he could have cleared that and had some air"

Goren moved to the end of the bunk "Most of these…yeah I though so…"

"What?" asked Logan as three of them barely had room to move around without bumping into each one another.

"These compartments have vents in the ends. To allow circulation of air around blankets and pillows"

"I'm forgetting you spent weeks in one of these not so long ago Bobby"

"There were some in the lid" said Dougan "But that pretty much broke up levering it up with all those nails"

"The poor guy may have died of a heart attack or possibly dehydration. You die from lack of water faster than you actually starve to death"

"However it was Bobby, it's slow and nasty" muttered Mike. "So why did our _Shakespeare _killer memo alert you Deputy?"

"I had seen it but it was Vicky the Park Ranger explained it when she saw the body and the cats. Was a Lit Major before she decided she wanted a life in the country"

"This? The cats? It's _Titus Andronicus_" said Goren.

"He's our resident know all" muttered Mike.

Dougan shrugged "That's the play Vicky said as well"

At that moment, Logan's cell began to ring and he stepped outside to take the call. As Goren followed with the Deputy he could tell by Mike's reaction, their colleagues in Brooklyn had confirmed a link to the Lessiter's.

"I think I know which of those bastards did this Bobby"

Logan snapped the phone closed and kicked a small stone violently in the direction of the water of the lake.

_**To be continued…**_


	38. Chapter 38

**Thursday 18****th**** December**

_**Lake Kanawauke, Harriman Park, Orange County, New York State**_

Goren waited a moment or two before joining Mike at the top of the bank, which showed the tracks and drag marks where the RV was hauled up it. He could sense the anger simmering in him, when his own emotion on this occasion was more one of sad resignation.

Mike skimmed a stone across the water and turned to him "So tell me about the play"

"One of the most violent. Titus is in a feud with a woman called Tamora. Two of her sons rape his daughter. They cut her hands off and tongue out. To stop her revealing who did it. Titus gets his revenge by killing them and serving them to their mother in a pie she eats at a banquet"

"I remember something like that. So the two cats in the stove…stand for children Copsey didn't have?"

"I would say so. Aaron is Tamora's lover and she secretly has his child. Aaron is a black man but she is married to the Emperor. He punishes Aaron by burying him up to his neck in the ground and leaving him to die"

"And this is good literature is it?" snorted Logan.

"No one said dramatic violence arrived with TV. I once saw a performance of _Tamburlaine _by Christopher Marlowe…he wrote at the same time as Shakespeare…some even think he wrote some of those plays or at least collaborated…anyway…that was so graphic they had to mop the stage between acts, there was so much fake blood"

"Do you ever wonder Bobby? What good it does you knowing all these things?"

Goren thought a minute "No but I wish I could skim a stone like you did. Never could manage that"

"I'll teach you sometime" smiled Logan reaching for his cell.

"Riker's?" asked Goren.

"You bet"

"I'll go see if I can scrounge us a coffee and get them to send some pictures ahead to the prison"

"Knew you would have your uses on this trip Bobby"

_**Riker's Island Prison Facility, The East River, New York**_

There are actually ten separate prisons on the island to house inmates of different gender and status. The total population averages about fifteen thousand each day, a mix of short sentence and remand prisoners awaiting trial or sentencing.

Whichever you are housed in there is only one way on or off the island, no development other than that owned and controlled by the Department of Corrections and _La Guardia_ airport is your nearest neighbour. A noisy one and perhaps a deliberate, cruel irony for those incarcerated to have to live with the sound and sight of planes. Full of people free to chose where to go and when.

They had not expected Lessiter to automatically agree to see them, but as Logan said nothing was going to change much as a result. Consecutive life sentences for each murder were going to be handed down as soon as a court date could be fixed. When the external door behind them closed in one of the remand facilities and they went deeper into its bowels, there was that familiar smell.

Of stale food, sweat, urine, shit and those other, hard to identify ones. That came from men living in confined spaces. Usually more than they or the ventilation system was designed to cope with. Bernie Lessiter entered the interview room with a sort of grin on his face and with two guards. Neither Goren nor Logan asked for any of the standard restraints to be removed.

"Do you know someone called Aaron Copsey?" asked Mike.

"No"

"Liar. You worked beside him on the line at _Pruden Furniture_ for five years"

"What if I did?"

"Your memory is obviously affected by this place Bernie" said Goren. "He was then your supervisor for another three"

"He tried to be" he shrugged.

"Yeah" said Mike. "We got to hear how you did everything to make his life difficult. How you eventually got fired for your disruption and racism"

"If you say so"

Goren opened his folder "We also hear you expected to get that job. Created trouble when you didn't and got the union involved. Even though Copsey had more years in and a better work record"

"We all knew why he got that job. To keep the rainbow quota right"

"Bullshit" muttered Mike "Who would _we _be? You and the other slope skulls dress up in bed sheets at weekends?"

Goren could have kicked Logan for that.

Lessiter faked a yawn "Look I left the library to come here and see you two. So unless there is anything else…"

"Is that why you killed Aaron Copsey?" asked Logan "Waited almost twenty years until he was older, less able to fight back?"

"_Old Token_ is dead is he? Well I never. Choke on a watermelon seed did he?"

"You…"

"Mike! No!"

Goren rose, grabbed Logan's fist just before he hit Lessiter and shoved him back into his seat. He might have a height and weight advantage over Mike, but it wasn't that great and Logan had the adrenaline and rage on his side.

"You see that?" squawked Lessiter at the guard who stood in the corner. "He was gonna hit me. This cop was…"

"I didn't see nothing massa" replied the guard. "Too busy thanking 'bout my watermelon patch"

Logan straightened his jacket and both he and Goren knew they got lucky with the PO who would have probably liked to do what Mike almost did.

"Aaron Copsey's body was found…" Goren trailed off.

Then he stood up "Take this…this excuse for a man away please officer"

_**Roark's Bar**_

"I never thought I'd live to see the day Bobby. When you would walk away from putting all the pieces together"

"He wasn't going to tell us anything Mike. You know that. Was just enjoying the attention. Dougan may turn something up. So might we to prove it"

"I know" Logan fiddled with his empty beer glass. "And I'm…again, I'm sorry about…just sometimes…or maybe you don't feel that way?"

"Not as much as I once did. Same as it was easier to walk away than it might have been at one time"

"Mellowing in your old age Bobby"

"Unlike some"

Mike chuckled "You got two good reasons to hang onto your job…unless…no chance of twins is there?"

"I hope not" yelped Goren before adding. "No. They seems sure from the scan it's just one"

"Want another?"

"No thanks. Mike? Come home with me. Have dinner with us?"

"Yeah but…"

"But what? Caro won't mind and there's plenty"

"Cooking for three already?"

"Not really. Nor am I running to get pickles and apricot jelly in the middle of the night"

"Yet"

"Come on. Let's go. I'm supposed to be cooking anyway"

"If you're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure" Goren drained the last of the beer. "And you can pay for your supper by helping me get the dining room furniture back in place. Or did you just think it was your company I wanted?"

As they got up and made for the door Logan turned to Goren.

"Bobby? Did you…did you ever feel…you know…that being a Dad…that you…that it was going to pass you by?"

"I don't know. Sometimes and others Mike…let's just say there were several points in my life I thought maybe that was a good thing. It's scary stuff…"

"Oh you'll be great Bobby. And like my granny used to say. It's never too late for anyone"

_**To be continued…**_


	39. Chapter 39

**Monday 22nd December**

_**Office Of The Chief Of Detectives, 1PP**_

Danny Ross juggled his plate from the buffet table and his glass of wine. Most of them there were at the end of shifts made that _"okay"._ Dick's annual drinks party was a time you got to see a lot of people you had not seen in the year since the last one. Notably those of his senior officers who were located in precinct houses or a few of the specialist squads spread out across the Five Boroughs. For operational reasons or ones of the space shortage at 1PP. The faces you knew less well or did not know at all because this was their first year in the job.

There was one particular face he was looking out for. Hoping to confirm a rumour one way or another. Then, over by the window, he saw Don Cregan speaking with his opposite numbers from Queens and The Bronx and Lenny Palmer who was one of the retirees, Dick had spoken of in his speech at the start.

Ross made his way over. Hoping this would not go on too long before it was acceptable to leave. It was his _"turn"_ to have the boys for Christmas Day this year and he still had a lot to do. Including wrapping some gifts he knew they both over indulged them with a little. To try to make up for the fact their children were a bit like parcels themselves at times.

**Christmas Eve**

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

They had come back into the apartment quietly in case Dawn was sleeping and she had not taken very kindly to _"a strange place"_ so far, keeping more than just Julie and Andy busy. The rink at the Rockefeller Center had been so crowded poor skaters did not need to worry. Everyone else would have prevented them from falling over.

Removing coats and scarves and gloves worn against the bitter cold, Julie offered to go get them some mulled wine from the kitchen. It had had been prepared and maturing to some secret recipe of her fathers for what seemed like forever. Eames pushed open the guest room door quietly to check on the baby.

She almost fell over the changing mat, a wet diaper and all manner of baby things strewn just inside the door. It looked more like a tornado had hit the place than one man had changed one baby. And whatever the experience did to poor little Dawn, it seemed to have exhausted Grandpapa.

Jack lay on the bed snoring softly with his daughter's daughter snuggled into the curve of his body. She making those automatic sucking motions babies so often do in their sleep. Eames knew it wasn't the effort of changing the diaper had worn him out.

It was his continuing reaction to that first dose of chemo, combined with that pig-headed, Irish determination to carry on his life as normal. There was one more due next week would probably make him as sick as a dog again and trust him to be in the minority who had that reaction.

But what mattered was it would only be one more and the medics seemed sure McCoy would have this cancer beat. What Ross had said to her yesterday as an offer could come her way and which he would try and _"push"_ a little for, was the last thing on her mind. Though it would be interesting and to say the least _"challenging". _Trouble was, that was sometimes management speak for a total nightmare.

Eames sat on the side of the bed intending to lift Dawn back in her cot, but it was Jack who woke.

"Wasn't asleep Al" he mumbled.

"Liar" she said kindly before leaning over and kissing him gently. "I love you Jack"

"I know" he returned the kiss.

**_St Luke's Place, Greenwich Village_**

"I realise it's a bit late in one way Caro but…"

She laughed softly "About three months late Rob. What they call putting the cart before the horse"

"Not a very…romantic…analogy"

"You want to debate analogies?" she kissed him sliding her tongue slowly into his mouth. "Or fool around?"

He stopped himself returning the favour. Just.

"Cut that out. And no I don't want to debate analogy"

"You want an answer?"

"I…well I kind of…hands off woman…I rather…"

"You rather assumed there was only one and it would be yes you mean?"

Goren mumbled something indistinct.

"Was that _'yes', 'uhuh'_ or _'I guess so'_? Didn't quite hear what you said there"

"You're doing this on purpose Caro and did you honestly think back in the fall…even before that…when I first…and with the baby as well I did not want…expect even…I should have asked then...and when..."

She put her fingers over his lips. "Sshhh. Yes I know it matters to you Rob and I understand why. Perhaps in a way it doesn't so much to me"

"So that's a _no _based on…on some kind of principle is it?" he had tried and failed to keep the irritation from his tone.

"Don't get…I'm sorry. I shouldn't tease you about serious stuff…the way I do sometimes…sorry"

"Me too. For sounding angry but I do love you and…"

"I love you too Rob. Very much. And yes. I will…we will. Just…right now…can we just concentrate on us and this place and having the baby? Deal with those things first?"

He looked at her for a long moment.

"Sure. If that's what you want. Now what was that other idea you had Caro?"

He got the answer to that as she wrapped her arms and one leg around him.

_**To be concluded…**_


	40. Chapter 40

_**Postscript**_

**Christmas Day**

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Logan was alone in the office. The other three covering that morning had decided to go to the service that one of the chaplains to NYPD was taking. His Irish grandmother would not approve of there being no religion in his plans.

And not a lot of anything else either. Most of his friends and co-workers had families to spend the day with and though he had invitations to join some of them later, it always felt like an intrusion. Even Bobby, with whom Mike had shared a lot of these duties in the past, was now building a family of his own. _Or maybe it was re-building given the events of his life? _

As he rose to get a fresh cup of coffee, Logan remembered the conversation they had after Kevin Lessiter had broken down in the corner of the room. When he asked Goren where one or two of those phrases he used came from. Words could be a weapon in some people's hands and for basically a _"nice guy"_ Goren could be lethal with them, when he needed to be.

Those ideas, that through children you _"cheat" _death, because a part of you lives on down through the years and the generations. He got up, went across the room and found on Goren's desk, _"The Complete Shakespeare"_ he had yet to take home.

He thought he could remember the right number but in any event Bobby had marked the page for _Sonnet Thirteen._ Logan turned to it and read.

"_O that you were yourself! But, love, you are_

_No longer yours than you yourself here live:_

_Against this coming end you should prepare,_

_And your sweet semblance to some other give._

_So should that beauty which you hold in lease_

_Find no determination: then you were_

_Yourself again, after yourself's decease,_

_When your sweet issue your sweet form should_

_Who let so fair a house fall to decay,_

_Which husbandry in honour might uphold_

_Against the stormy gusts of winter's day_

_And barren rage of death's eternal cold?_

_O, none but unthrifts: dear my love, you know_

_You had a father; let your son say so"_

Mike closed the book and put it back.

"And your sweet semblance to some other give" he repeated softly to himself.

Perhaps it was never too late for anyone?

**THE END**


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